Читать книгу A Manor of Murder - June Shaw - Страница 8

Chapter 2

Back at home, I had to move around and do something positive at the same time. I scooted to the kitchen, powered on the oven, and whipped out utensils and ingredients. In no time, the enticing scent of the vanilla eased my tight shoulders, and I was watching two light-textured angel food cakes fluff up above the tops of their pans. In the meantime, I got everything ready to set two more of the same in my oven right after those came out. Maybe when Eve helped me bring those four cakes to the manor in the morning, Mom would be her more reasonable, softer self.

Thinking of her situation made me furious. As did considering Dave, the one man who had attracted me, but now did not. Yes, I cared about him, but I didn’t want him siding with a man who wanted to take advantage of my mother.

While the cakes cooled upside down on the hot pepper bottles I’d hung them on, I fixed two more and set them to bake. Considering the work we had already done ourselves and what we’d used subcontractors for, I made note of the details left to complete at Edward’s house and then worked on bids for another project. Because of my dyslexia, I always had Eve check over my numbers, which normally came out right, but not every time.

It was hard to focus, since concerns about Mom kept returning. Eve and I had been fortunate with excellent parents. Our father was a good man who always let his wife and daughters know how much he loved them. He’d worked hard to provide for us as a building contractor and had us girls often use tools with him. It had been great to occasionally work side by side with him. But he had been gone—what?—almost six years? Did I want Mom alone the rest of her life?

Maybe not, but she shouldn’t marry someone we knew so little about. The man she was so interested in was too new in town. My sister and I needed to keep her from harm. We would take care of that in morning, I decided, leaving the paperwork and removing the cooled cakes from their pans. I wrapped the cakes, cleaned the kitchen, and eventually slept, waking to a dream of a slimy worm nearing Dave’s face.

Dreariness hung like a gray drape over town when Eve and I rode to the manor in the morning with my offering and then carried them to the kitchen. The cakes would be distributed to residents with diabetes during lunch or supper, while sweeter cake with sugary icing would go to those whose health allowed it.

Some of our mother’s Chat and Nap buddies were in their normal places in their sofa grouping not far past the foyer, but she wasn’t with them. Maybe now the others would talk.

“Good morning, ladies,” I said, and Eve repeated. Most of them greeted us. I stooped a little to get more at eye level with them, wanting to hurry before Mom might show up. I used a quieter tone. “What do y’all really think about Mom wanting to marry that man?”

Some of their eyes shifted as though looking to see if she were coming. Gazes swerved to each other like they might be asking if they should talk.

“You know what a lot of men do?” asked the rather plump Miss Ida who had bluish hair. “They take advantage of older women. Old guys go after the women to get their money or anything else they can get.”

The lady who wore three strands of pearls and always shook her finger said, “Right. A lot of women are receiving pension checks that are better than those old men get. The men just want their husband’s social security or insurance payments.”

Eve and I both sat on the edge of seats where women had shifted over to give us room and waved us closer. We leaned forward, urging them on with these arguments we could use with our mother.

“We hope Mom hasn’t told him about her financial situation,” Eve said. “And he probably hasn’t said anything about his.”

Ms. Grace stopped looking at pictures on her phone and dropped the device into her bra. It fell so low it resembled a budding third boob. “Yep, they’re all just about broke. Only want older women’s money.”

The wheelchair bound woman had dozed a minute but woke, shaking her head. “That’s not true. Some of them just want to get in your drawers.”

Eve grimaced, her face surely matching mine when I considered our aging mother and some older fellow.

Miss Ida shook her head. “Yeah, but what about that woman Clarice? She wants him, too.”

We only knew of Ms. Clarice as a fairly attractive, thin person with kidney problems who was assigned to eat meals at a table with our mother and two other ladies. Eve and I considered ourselves fortunate in the gene pool, since the only medicine Mom required was one pill a day for her mild heart problem. But if Ms. Clarice also wanted the man in question, possibly there was more hope that a proposed marriage between him and our mother would not take place. Eve’s eye shift toward me suggested she began hoping the same thing. Neither of us would want our mother to get in a catfight for a man.

Rubber soles suctioned the floor beside us. The nurse, Belinda Hadley, stepped near. “I couldn’t help hearing some of this conversation, so I think now is the time I should mention this to all of you. Cases of HIV and venereal diseases in the aged have risen tremendously. None of you are protected from those things if you’re sexually active unless you use some protection, so we have decided to give condoms to any of our residents who need them. Just ask any one of us at the office.”

I felt my jaw drop. Eve’s did the same. Most of the women with us frowned. One especially lively woman in the group made a worried face like she might be concerned about what she’d heard. The nurse walked off saying she would soon have a talk about sex with all the residents. My stomach roiled, ready to pitch my breakfast.

Mom walked up with our client, the younger attorney, Edward, beside her.

Eve shot to her feet. “You can’t marry him.”

“No,” I said and stood. “Mom, you need to take your time and think about this.”

A frown creased her forehead. She pulled her lips tight. She wasn’t ready to agree with us.

Edward faced Mom. “I’ll tell you what, Miriam. With this kind of support from your daughters about you marrying my wonderful uncle, I think you two should do it right away.”

“No!” Eve and I shouted.

Mom gave our client a sweet smile. “That sounds like a grand idea. I’ll talk to Mac about it. You’ll get things prepared?”

“I can do that in no time.” With a smile so wide it showed a gold-capped rear tooth, he brought her hand to his lips and kissed the back of it. “Let me go find my uncle and discuss arrangements.”

“He just went to his room to freshen up,” Mom said.

I gripped her free hand. “Please don’t think of getting married yet.”

She slipped her hand from mine. “I’ll make my own decisions. I’m old enough.”

“You are,” I said and turned on Edward. “You’re the one who’s been pushing this wedding—probably from the start. You probably put that horrible idea in their minds in the first place.”

“Yes, stop it,” Eve told him.

“You two are finished at my place!” He pointed at Eve and me. “You’re done. Get your belongings out of my house and bill me for the work you’ve completed. I can’t believe you’re so hard on your mother.”

“It’s because we love her,” I said, but Mom only frowned at us.

A number of people who worked there and nearby residents all stared at us. Eve and I turned around and left the building.

* * * *

“One positive that might come out of what we’ve just been through,” Eve said, half an hour later while we sat in a rustic restaurant with our soft drinks. We had ridden around awhile, not saying a thing, trying to let our blood pressures go down before attempting anything else. “Of all those people who heard us, maybe somebody will come up with information we can use to stop her from doing it.”

Not wanting to face what might soon lay ahead with our parent, we ordered the boiled seafood trio: shrimp, crayfish, and crabs. The spicy aroma of seasoning arrived before our large round plastic trays. The warm pink shrimp were plump and easy to peel with just enough spice. Crayfish took a pinch longer to get out of their harder red shells, and the crabs took longest, but were seasoned just right. Using the dip, I found all the food perfect.

By the time we finished with our meal, we were stuffed but in better moods. It would be difficult to tackle food like we had just enjoyed and not find yourself in a lifted state of mind. Things would work out with our mother, we’d agreed. She was much too reasonable to rush into something as serious as marriage.

We would return to speak with her during a quieter time, possibly after she took a long afternoon nap, we discussed while I drove up to Edward’s house.

“Darn, I had hoped he wouldn’t be here when we came,” Eve said when we pulled up behind his car in the long concrete driveway edged with bricks that matched his house.

“Should we come back tomorrow instead?” I tapped the brakes and then reconsidered. “No, let’s get it over with now.”

“Maybe we can get him to change his mind about rushing to get those two together,” Eve said. “At least we should be able to learn more about his uncle from him.”

We strode to the front door and rang the doorbell.

Eve tapped her foot while I watched the windows to see if he would come through the great room. I hoped his face no longer wore the anger it bore the last time we saw him, two or more hours ago.

“Maybe he’s making bridal arrangements in there,” Eve said.

That thought added to my ire. She rang the bell, and we waited more long minutes.

“He might be in the backyard,” she said once we’d knocked and waited some more.

“Or he could have left his car here and gone off with someone else.” I knocked hard and was ready to go for the key under the plant when Eve tried the door. It opened.

“Hi, Edward, we’re here,” she called out. “It’s Eve and Sunny. We’re just here to get our equipment like you told us to do. We rang the doorbell and knocked.”

I also called out his name and announced ours. Possibly he was upstairs. We didn’t come across him when we entered and didn’t see or hear him when we walked up the stairs and made our way to the large main bedroom, a beautiful space that would look even more fabulous once he furnished it. He had allowed us to store the few tools we often used there for measurements in one of the closets. We headed for the closet when I noticed water on the newly restored oak floor.

I pointed at it and followed the slim trail to the adjourning master bathroom. We had designed this masterpiece with large oval-topped windows that revealed beautiful landscaping outside and a lavatory topped with black marble. A delicate chandelier glittered above a freestanding tub.

The Christmas carol I sang let my twin know I had found what caused the water spill. Edward was fully clothed and might have floated out of his bathtub that overflowed onto the floor. He lay face up with unseeing eyes open, so even if he was spread eagle, he obviously wasn’t enjoying a relaxing soak.