by M E Harmon
Anna let go of the shirt and smoothed out the wrinkle her clutch had caused. She then leveled a Momma stare-down until Rick Jr. slunk out of the patio doors.
Jenna threw one last look over her shoulder at Hannah before hooking an arm through her mother’s. Daughter led mother out of the room, complaints about Dorrick Jr. trailing back to the kitchen.
Finally, I was alone with the chair-throwing Hannah. She stared at the floor while gnawing on a fingernail.
Keeping my distance seemed wise at this juncture, but I moved closer to the island counter. Hannah stood on the other side of it, in a corner near the cabinets, so we were safely separated. I gently put down the tray of ruined cupcakes.
Jenna returned. She put her hands on her hips. “OK. Hannah. Mom’s gone. I know how she works your nerves. It’s just us. Tell me what’s up.”
I counted to five before Hannah answered. “Look, I just lost it. You know I have a lot going on and, you know. I’m sorry.”
Yeah, that wasn’t the entire story. I could tell from her tone. Hannah was hiding something. A lot of something.
I nudged Jenna’s shoulder and whispered, “Give us a few minutes.”
We exchanged a look. I could swear Jenna’s hazel eyes darkened for a second, as if a less kind part of her nature rose but then hunkered back into hiding. Anna Carter wasn’t the only one who preferred to be in control. But Jenna nodded, and left, her sandals clacking against the floor.
Just then I heard a whirring noise. It sounded mechanical. I spun around but didn’t see anything. What was that?
Hannah’s slurping coconut water pulled my attention back to her.
“Any more of those?” I asked.
She walked to the large refrigerator, pulled one out, and slammed the door. “Rick Jr. loves these. They keep the fridge stocked.” She slid it to me across the island’s marble top.
A small white straw encased in cellophane was glued to the back of the carton. I took my time peeling it off while brainstorming how to break the ice with Hannah.
Fortunately, Hannah took the lead. “I guess I owe you an apology, too. It was nothing personal. In fact,” she paused and waved her hand in front of her eyes. “For a while there, I checked out. I barely recall seeing you.”
I nodded. “Yeah, you were pretty out of it. You seem much better now.” That wasn’t quite true; she looked as if she’d been tossed in a dryer.
As if she could read my thoughts, Hannah ran a hand through her hair and then patted down her dress. “I don’t know what happened, I just lost it.”
“So what happened? Did that woman... what’s her name?”
Hannah rolled her eyes. “Abigail. She goes by Abby.”
I stabbed the straw through the foil in the top of the carton but left it on the table. “Weddings and funerals are insane. Emotions run high, and all types of stuff that’s been buried forever comes bubbling to the surface. Get this, at my third cousin’s wedding two years ago, we all found out her oldest sister was really her mother.”
She looked at me, eyes wide with disbelief. “No way. How come the rest of your family didn’t know?”
I shrugged. “The older generation probably suspected, but my cousin grew up on the west coast when most of us were out east. It’s easy to tell a lie when nobody is around to say otherwise.”
The strawberry blonde scoffed and crushed the carton in her fist. “Isn’t that the truth.” She cut her eyes at me. “So now what, am I supposed to spill my guts to you? What are you a nun?”
“I’m a baker.” It sounded witty to my ears. But Hannah didn’t crack a smile. She smirked.
I said, “Listen, Hannah. I don’t know why I’m here exactly. No, that’s not quite true. Long story short, I helped the police with an investigation, well more than one actually, which sounds strange even to me, but the stories made the paper.” At the word police, Hannah’s mouth jerked. I continued. “Jenna is putting on a good front, but she’s upset her bridesmaids started brawling. She thinks I can help, and I’m going to try. Now, you wanna tell me your version of the story, and we both can go about our business?”
Being around investigating detectives on more than one occasion, I’ve noticed they ask questions assuming they'll get an answer.. So I leaned on the island confidently as if I just knew it was a matter of time until Hannah dished her secrets.
Imagine my surprise when she did.
She drew in a big shuddering breath. “There are some things in my past that wouldn’t be good if they came out right now.”
She paused, and I resisted the urge to goad her on.
“Abby, for some reason, I can’t guess why, is threatening to tell everyone. And I can’t let that happen. Jenna has been the best to me. The best.”
So what could ruin things for Jenna at this point? I could think of one thing. Or rather a person.
“So what about him?”
Hannah dropped her head and whispered. “It was one of those things. You know. Late night. I came looking for Jenna. She wasn’t around. I was licking wounds from a breakup, and he was a little drunk. He was really nice, still is actually. And I knew it was a mistake, but I couldn’t stop myself. I was such an idiot.”
Her cheeks burned a bright pink. Poor thing, she was torturing herself.
I asked, “How did Abby find out about your tryst?”
She shrugged. “No idea. I have no idea. I took her out for her birthday a few months back, and I was on antibiotics so I couldn’t drink. But she got loaded and admitted she knew what I did.”
I nodded and said, “Why would she threaten this now?”
“I don’t know. After her birthday, I never mentioned it again and neither did she. But I got a text, and it couldn’t be from anyone else but her.”
“What do you mean it couldn't be from anyone else but her?”
She said, “I didn’t recognize the number. When I called it back, I got one of those ‘you’ve dialed a number in error’ messages.”
“So you,” I said thinking aloud, “got an anonymous text and assume it was Abby threatening to tell you slept with Jenna’s fiancé?”
Hannah tossed the carton onto the island. “Fiancé? You mean Ethan? I didn’t sleep with Ethan.” She grabbed both edges of the counter, looked at the doorway, and then whispered, “Jenna’s father, Rick. I was with him.”
It wasn't easy holding in my surprise, so I didn't bother. “Wait. What? Rick?” Then my brain caught up. “I didn't see that coming, but now that I think about it...” I left the rest unsaid.
Now that the big secret was out, Hannah’s truth sifted out like flour through a sieve. “He's scandalous, and it's no secret I have my moments too. But a few years back Jenna's folks almost split over his womanizing, and Jenna was devastated. Supposedly he swore off any more affairs, and Anna stayed but she threatened he'd be finished if it happened again. So if this gets out and Jenna's folks break up, Jenna will hate me. She's one of my best friends. I'd die if that happened, and it would be all my fault.”
“I would say Dorrick has responsibility in this too.”
“There's a difference. He runs a hedge fund, he can survive the wrath of Anna Carter, even if she took him for everything. Me? Anna would blackball me. I work in the fashion district. Anna's connections got me that job. And she'd get me fired like it was nothing. I'd lose all my friends. Rick will survive, but I'd be finished.”
I said, “But Anna seems so nice. Could you be overreacting?”
Hannah scoffed. “What? Overreacting? There's an expression people who know Anna Carter use. Hell hath no fury like Anna scorned. Under that petite June Cleaver exterior is a viper that rivals Cersei Lannister on Game of Thrones.”
I was impressed with the HBO show reference. “So, isn't this the worst place to lose your cool the way you did?”
She cast her eyes down and nodded. “Yeah, I lost it all right. I was up worrying all night after getting that text, and this morning when I saw Abby, I couldn't take it anymore. At any second I
knew she was just going to blurt out what I'd done. And-and-and, I thought, if I'm going down I wanted to wipe the stupid grin off her stupid face first.”
The truth, or at least Hannah's version of it, was in the open. I drank some coconut water to stall for time. The other woman searched my face as if waiting to be absolved or helped out of the mess she'd put herself in.
“OK, Hannah. It sounds like you filled in a lot of gaps with your theory. But they all could be true. So this is what I'll do. I'll speak to Abby. Maybe this is all a misunderstanding. In the meanwhile, I think to start making amends, you should go outside and see if anything needs cleaning up. I'm sure there's a patch of grass covered in frosting. Then you need to apologize profusely to Jenna and her mom and cop to weaning off some antidepressant that's making you jumpy or something.”
Her eyes got big when I mentioned pharmaceuticals. I quickly jumped in, “Or pick the drug of your choice or say you had too much to drink last night, or whatever. Pick your poison. Just come up with something logical that explains you going nuts. In the meanwhile, I'll talk to Abby, and if she’s innocent, you'll have to make up with her too.
Hannah leaned over the counter and grabbed my hand. “Please, please, please don't tell anyone what I told you.”
Personally, I was surprised she copped to as much as she did. She had a fling with Dorrick? Wow. But I'd pegged him right. And now Hannah seemed remorseful. Or at least she didn't want her dirty unmentionables aired out in public.
“Your secret is safe, Hannah. I won't tell anyone, and if that text was from Abby, I'll do my best to motivate her to keep your secret too.” How I would do that was up for debate but I refrained from saying as much.
She let out a huge whoosh of relief and squeezed my hand. “Thank you, Ali.”
I did my best to give a reassuring smile, and that seemed to be enough for the strawberry blonde. She gave my hand another squeeze, tossed her empty carton into the trash can in a nearby corner, and headed for the patio doors.
When she closed the door behind her, the kitchen was quiet. But I sensed the silence was a temporary respite. The energy inside the Carter home felt charged, as if trouble hunched in a corner waiting for the right moment to pounce.
I drained the last of the coconut water and tossed the carton and the grass-covered cupcakes into the trash. Then I steeled my resolve and headed out the kitchen’s entryway. It was time to have a chat with Abby. I wondered if her story was going to be half as interesting.
Abigail
I walked around a corner and entered the Carter’s foyer. The last time I was here, a floral arrangement, taller than me and sprouting a jungle of exotic blooms, dominated the center of the room. Now a round glass table sat adorned with a simple arrangement of cut roses. Two staircases, one on either side of the room, curved up to the second floor landing.
Despite feeling the negative energy of the house, this room was pristine. Pale blue walls complemented the ivory banisters of the staircase. A carpet runner, the same color of a summer's sky, was tacked onto the stairs by gold holders. The roses, a pale pink, added the perfect splash of color. Someone had put a good deal of thought into making this room stylish yet tasteful. I wondered if it was Anna Carter or if she’d hired an interior designer.
The sound of sniffling drew my eyes upward. A blonde woman (of course), walked across the upper landing. Her arms were exposed in a light green sleeveless shirt-dress that stopped mid-thigh. She dabbed a tissue to her nose and started down the staircase. About half-way down, she glanced up through long, dark lashes and stopped short.
“Are you Ali?” she asked.
She didn’t say it in an unfriendly way, which was good, so I nodded.
“I just got a text from Jenna. She said you might want to talk to me.”
I gave another short nod, and I suddenly didn’t know what to do with my hands. I folded my arms across my chest, then decided that may not give off the best impression, so then dropped them to my sides. “Did Jenna go somewhere?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe. If I had to guess, she’s probably went to check on Bree. Bree heads for the hills at the slightest bit of trouble, and she seemed really upset after...after everything went to heck outside.”
Went to heck?
A hint of an accent reared its head when she said the last few words. I was no expert, but I pictured her coming from a landlocked state in the middle of the country where they said, “don’t you know” often.
“Are you Abby?” I asked but already knew the answer. It was her face Hannah had thrown the chair at.
To my surprise she plopped down right there on the stairs. “Call me Abigail. Or Abby. Whatever, it doesn’t matter.” She waved a hand dismissively. “Abby is fine. My mother is adamant about people calling me by my proper name. She hates Abby. And I still hear her voice in my head every time...every time I-I-I introduce myself,” she finished in a wail.
“Abby it is then. Whoa, whoa, whoa,” I said climbing the stairs. “What’s with the water works? Did you get hurt?”
She dropped her head into hands. “No, no. I’m fine.” But then another foray of tears overcame her. I glanced up and saw a bathroom near the head of the stairs. I climbed past her. The second my foot hit the landing, a door further down the hall shut with a loud click. The sound came from my right, but I’d turned a second too late. I couldn’t tell which of the several doors had just closed. I wasn’t sure who else was in the house and wasn’t sure if it was even important.
I found what I wanted in the bathroom (a very luxurious bathroom at that, gold fixtures and a bidet) and made my way back to Abby.
“Here,” I handed over a white ceramic tissue box holder. The outside depicted several maids a-milkin' cows in a green pasture.
Abby pulled several tissues out and left me holding the box. “Thanks. I don't know what's come over me. I'm not a woman who cries all the time. It's just that I'm under so much stress and then last night...” She blew her nose and then gave me a perplexed sidelong glance. “Who are you again?”
I put the tissue holder on her lap and dished out what was now becoming my spiel about being a baker-slash-unofficial sleuth on police cases. The confused expression didn't come off of her face much. Abby looked me over a few times, which wasn't exactly easy because I’d taken a seat on the step next to her. Finally she tilted her head to the side and sniffled.
“I don't get it, but OK. I'll do almost anything for Jenna.” She fanned herself with a tissue. “Is it hot in here or is it just me?”
“You’re probably just feeling flush. It’ll pass soon.” If she could’ve seen the red splotches climbing out her collar, that answer would’ve been obvious. She must’ve been doing one heck of an ugly cry earlier to break out so strongly.
She undid the top button of the shirt-dress and fanned herself with the tissue. But then, in an instant, something in the air between us changed. Abby cocked her head like a pitbull catching the scent of an intruder. “What did you want to ask me?”
The corner of her eyes crinkled. Despite the tears that still crested over puffy lids, those eyes issued a challenge.
If I’d been a cat, my ears would've flattened against my head, preparing to fight. Abby had a heart-shaped face, a nose just too long to be called perky, and irises the color of dirty jade. She fell into the pretty category, though not the cheerleader-next-door pretty like Jenna. Abby's vibe was more like pretty girl from the wrong side of the tracks. Underneath the expertly applied makeup and designer dress was a woman with sanded down rough edges.
I eased onto the next step up and angled my body toward her. Sitting so precariously on the stairs seemed like a bad idea all of a sudden. Not that I thought she'd do anything to me but being on higher ground, if only a fraction, felt wise.
Abby watched me like a shark.
“What happened last night?” I asked.
She didn't flinch. “What makes you think something happened last night?”
I met the gre
en eyes. “You said you're under a lot of stress and that something happened last night.”
“No. I said I was under a lot of stress, but I didn't say something happened last night.”
Oh, OK. Abby was a shark and anal retentive. Got it. Her type liked to play games with being precise and talked down to people who didn't match their standards. So I had two ways to play this. Dumb or direct.
My patience was already wearing thin. I went with direct.
“I'm getting paid triple my rate for my time here today. I like Jenna and I like her business. She asked me to step in. Now here's how this could be a problem for you. I'm a woman of my word. I'm going to do my best to figure out what happened with you all. If you give me a hard time, I know all I have to do is sic Jenna's mother Anna on you. Then you two can play together.”
Abby twisted her lips. “I'm not like everyone else. She doesn't scare me,” she said.
I knew that wasn’t true. If it had been, Abby wouldn’t have just lowered her voice to avoid being overheard. “Yeah, right. Hell hath no fury like Anna scorned? I'm only the baker and that scares me. I have a feeling that people on Anna Carter's good side are treated exceptionally well, and those who aren't on her good side...they’re treated equally bad, right? Right now I have the Carter's ears. Answer my questions, truthfully, and I’ll leave you alone plus say how helpful you were.”
The tears evaporated during my speech. Abby balled the tissues in her fist. “Fine. What do you want to know?”
“What happened last night? Was it the reason why you almost jumped on one of the other bridesmaids?”
She met my stare, and despite my Anna Carter threat, I could see Abby measure how much to tell me. Finally she said, “I just blew something out of proportion. Once I was able to cool down, I realized I likely made the whole thing up in my head.”
“What triggered this?”
“It was just some stupid text I got. It was nothing really. I owe Gwen an apology.” Abby said glancing away.
