“What actually went on inside the Langworthy residence that day?”
“Oh, nothing, really. I asked to speak to the person my neighbor reported to, and told her that she thought the world of the Langworthy staff and had asked me to stop by and wish them well. Naturally, they asked about her and how she was doing, and even said that Mr. Langworthy regretted firing her. Guess it has cost him some sleepless nights. They asked me to contact her to see if she’d come back, and I did, but she said she’s happier where she is.”
“You know what, I don’t give a damn about any of that. I don’t even give a shit about all those stupid male gold diggers who were trying to get into your panties over the last few weeks. There are only two people I’m really concerned about here. God knows how Mr. Langworthy is going to react when he learns what’s happened to his reputation. So that’s one. But-”
“Mark,” she said, looking forlorn. “I know you have no reason to believe a word I say, but it’s breaking my heart twice. I can’t stand hurting him, but I’ve realized for some time now that I made a bigger trap for myself than the one I built for Eldon. I hated hurting Mark.” This time, the tears flowed unchecked.
I ignored them-her use of the past tense was another matter. “What the hell have you done now?”
She looked surprised at my anger. “Didn’t he tell you? I thought you’d be the first person he called. I gave his ring back to him. I couldn’t live with myself if we married, knowing I’d tricked him into it.”
“So what’s the plan now, Mrs. Chadwick?”
“Don’t call me that!”
“What’s the plan? Do you go back to Ohio with your tail between your legs? Join a nunnery? Marry someone you don’t love in some act of martyrdom?”
She looked stunned. “I thought-I thought you’d understand.”
“Here’s an alternative you may not have considered: tell Mark the truth.”
“I have thought of that. Of course I have. But how could he ever trust me again?”
“If you ask me, whatever time and effort you spend earning that trust is bound to be a better penance than hurting him for the sake of your fear and guilt.”
She looked down at the tablecloth again. Her hands were shaking, but she said, “I’ll do it.”
“Good. The whole truth, right?”
“Yes.”
I brought her a box of Kleenex and called Mark.
“Hi, Irene,” he said. He sounded awful. “I was just thinking of calling you.”
“Tell you what, why don’t you come over instead?”
“I don’t think I’d be good company. Donna gave me my ring back.” Utterly crushed. The boy had it bad.
“Bring the ring over. Maybe you can put it back on her. But my unsolicited advice is that the two of you should take things a little slower.”
“She’s there?” he said, with about a thousand volts more energy than I had heard in his voice a moment before.
“Yes. Come over; I’ll see to it that you aren’t disturbed. But you have to be out of here by noon.”
“Irene… I… I don’t know what you said to her, but-”
“Just get over here.”
“On my way.”
Next I called Lydia’s mom.
I met Lydia on the front steps with an overnight bag already packed for her. “Come on, we’re spending the night at your mom’s place.”
“What?”
“An old-fashioned slumber party.”
“What are you talking about? I’m exhausted.”
“I’ll tell you all about it on the way over to your mom’s. I’d take you to Kellyville, but-”
She shuddered. “Barbara.”
“Exactly. My sister will drive us nuts.”
I found Jack Corrigan in his office late the next day.
“Thanks for the assignment,” I said. “Reading the style of those turn-of-the-century reporters was fun. How did you know about the story?”
“My mother’s eldest brother-who was so much older than her, he was more a father figure than a sibling-lost all his savings when the Oberlin bank failed, thanks to Cassie Chadwick. Or at least, that was the way the story was told by my mother. Uncle Eamon pointed out that crooked though Cassie was, the bankers played a large part in elevating her from a minor con artist to a major swindler.”
“Were you close to him?”
“Oh yes. He came to live with us at one point, and eventually repaired his fortunes, which was a good lesson to me-that ruin need not be a permanent condition for anyone still breathing.” He paused. “May I ask how your friend Mark is doing?”
“Great. As your uncle might say, Donna is still breathing. They’re going to wait a year to marry. In the meantime, she’s moving in with Lydia and me.”
“Excellent work, Kelly.”
Mr. Langworthy had been informed of the rumors while on vacation with the love of his own life, who happened to be male. His lover encouraged an impish side to Mr. Langworthy that no one had seen in decades. Donna, expecting to be told that she must pay for an announcement to be printed in the paper denying any claim on him, was instead begged never to do so. “I would be delighted, my dear-provided you’re not interested in making any claim on my estate?-to watch all of the people who’ve been eager to have a slice of the pie try to behave themselves when it looks as if the kitchen is closed.”
She assured him-as did Mark-that she had no need for his money.
So Lydia and I were bridesmaids at a wedding that was held at the Langworthy mansion. Many people in attendance thought they knew something they didn’t, always a dangerous condition, but terribly amusing to Mr. Langworthy all the same.
Oh, and somehow Eldon Naff ended up falling into a koi pond, and had to go home early as a result. I am not at liberty to say how this came about, but perhaps some things are best left unacknowledged.
Why Tonight?
Why tonight?
As she lay staring up at the lazily circling blades of the ceiling fan, Kaylie asked herself the question again and again. She wasn’t sure what caused her to ask herself that question more than any other, especially as there were certainly other matters she should be addressing before the sheriff arrived. But through the numbness that surrounded nearly every other line of thinking, one question occurred to her repeatedly, refused evasion by tricks of distraction: Why tonight?
Was it because of the heat? It was hot tonight. But then, it wasn’t the first hot summer night in Kansas. Even her grandmother used to say that the devil couldn’t be found in Kansas in August; in August he went back to hell, where he could cool off. No, the heat had not decided this night would be the night that Joseph Darren died.
She had met the man whose body hung from a rope tied to the rafters of the garage on another, long-ago August night, when she had gone down to the small, man-made lake on the edge of town, hoping it would be cool there.
She had talked Tommy Macon into driving her down there that night. She smiled, thinking of Tommy. Tommy who used to have a crush on her. Tommy, taking her out to drag Main in his big old Chrysler. Kaylie calling ‘Hey!’ to Sue Halloran, just to rub it in. Sue calling back, half-heartedly, like a beaten pup.
Willowy. That’s what Joseph called her that night. If his eyes had moved over her just a little more slowly, it would have been insulting. He had taken in her skinny frame, a body she dismissed with the word ‘awkward’ up to that moment, that moment when Joseph asked, “Who’s the willowy blonde, Tommy?”
When he introduced them, Tommy, who would never be a Thomas, whispered to her, “Don’t never call him ‘Joe’.” He needn’t have bothered with the warning. She knew from that first moment that Joseph would be extraordinary. He would never be “an average Joe.” Tommy was sweet and clumsy, but she was too stupid in those days to see the advantages of being with a sweet and clumsy man.