“I’m healthy and I stay fit. I play handball. I’m taking karate lessons.”
“That isn’t the kind of tough I mean. Tough is when you’ve seen everything, all the things a minister like Michael is forced to see. Or tough is when your only child has been murdered.”
“I want to be in on the investigation.”
“You will be. We’ll consult you from time to time, ask your advice and so on.”
“Sure,” Ben said. “Sure.”
“Now your feelings are hurt, aren’t they? It’s a good example of what I was talking about. You’re too emotional. You overreact.”
“I can control myself perfectly well.”
“Then start now by facing the fact that Michael and I are going to—”
“Mike should stick to the Lord’s work, dammit.”
“Come on, Ben. There’s a very important role in this for you.”
“What do I get to do — carry a spear? Make coffee?”
“Pay extra attention to Kay. In spite of the way she talks she’s very vulnerable and depressed. She doesn’t have this desire for revenge that keeps me going. She’s not interested in revenge, or in anything else either at the moment, and I can’t help her. That’s where you come in.”
“Oh goody, here’s where I get to make the coffee.”
“Take her out to dinner when you have the chance, maybe even drive down to L.A. for a play or a concert. That is, if your Miss Quinn doesn’t object.”
“Miss Quinn doesn’t belong to me any more than she did to the last twenty guys.”
“Then you’ll go out of your way to be nice to Kay?”
“I’ve always been nice to her. I love her. I love her like a sister.” He paused for a moment. “Or maybe not like a sister. I’m not sure. Maybe I’ll try to move in on you, Howard. How would you like that?”
“There you go, overreacting again. Are you actually trying to make me jealous? Don’t be silly, Ben. I trust you completely.”
“You might be wrong. I consider Kay the most beautiful and desirable woman in town.”
“Well, don’t tell me that, tell her,” Howard said. “She needs it, I don’t.”
“What you need, pal, is a swift kick in the ass. And when I finish my course in karate I might give it to you.”
“I’ll be waiting. Meanwhile, will you take care of Kay? Go places with her, keep her as busy as possible. Don’t let her sit around the house and brood. You could even take her out dancing. I bet you’re a good dancer.”
“Why do you bet that?”
“No particular reason. You seemed like the type who’s a good dancer.”
“There, that’s another sign of the lack of respect you have for me. In that classy world of yours, men who are good dancers are considered suspect. Right?”
“I didn’t—”
“Well, it so happens that I’m a lousy dancer. My feet are too big and I can’t keep time… Now I suppose you think I’m overreacting again, don’t you?”
“It occurred to me,” Howard said dryly.
“You’re wrong. I was simply responding to what I consider an implied insult.”
“No insult was intended. I was merely suggesting, hoping, in fact, that you might be a good dancer because Kay likes to dance and I’m very bad at it.”
“Well dammit, I am a, good dancer. Tell that to your friends at the Forum Club.”
“I doubt they’d be interested. We mainly discuss politics.”
“That would be way over my head, of course.”
“Sit down, Ben.”
“Why?”
“You might think more clearly in that position.”
Ben sat on the edge of the copper-hooded fire pit that dominated one corner of the room. The season for fires hadn’t arrived yet and last winter’s ashes had long since been hauled away. Ben had tried to explain to Chizzy that fire pits were supposed to have ashes in them to look as if they had just been used the previous night. But Chizzy said ashes merely looked sloppy and went right on keeping the fire pit as spotless as one of her own skillets.
“You’re being a problem today,” Howard said. “I was hoping you’d be more of a solution.”
“I will be. I’ll help you and Michael with your investigation.”
“That’s not the kind of help I need.”
“Okay, okay. I’ll take Kay to dinner and out dancing, she’ll fall madly in love with me, ask you for a divorce and marry me. How’s that for a scenario?”
“Full of holes. You’re like a son to Kay and me. Rather a bad boy at times, like right now, but we still love you. Reverting to childish behavior is your way of handling grief, I suppose. Kay’s is to retreat. And mine… well, mine is to get the hell out there and fight.”
Chizzy’s way was to cook.
During the past few weeks she had made stews and casseroles, bread, pies and cakes, a fat turkey and scrawny little game hens. The freezer was filled and still she kept on cooking. In order to cope with the surplus she had to do a great deal of eating. Kay scarcely touched her food and Howard and his father had always been picky eaters.
Ben was of some help. He was usually hungry since none of the women who lived with him from time to time had much interest in cooking. But even he couldn’t keep up with Chizzy’s output.
And so she gained weight and, hating her new image, ate still more to comfort herself, and gained still more. She weighed almost as much as the two Japanese gardeners, Mitsu and Suki, put together. The young man who came to clean the pool and jacuzzi twice a week began calling her Mrs. Five by Five and didn’t stop until she hit him over the head with one of his own skimmers.
Meanwhile the food kept multiplying like some prolific new form of life that couldn’t be controlled. Chizzy was forced to use more drastic methods of disposal. She sent casseroles over to Dru’s house, pies and cakes to Mitsu’s wife and sons and to Suki’s parents. She even personally delivered a meat loaf to Mrs. Cunningham down the road.
Mrs. Cunningham looked quite astonished. “What did you say this was?”
“A meat loaf.”
“You mean, to eat?”
“Yes. To eat.”
“Are you sure you came to the right place?” Mrs. Cunningham raised her voice. “Peter dear, did you order a meat loaf?”
“No one ordered it,” Chizzy explained. “I’m giving it to you.”
“To eat?”
“To eat.”
“How extraordinary. I don’t believe anyone has ever given me a meat loaf. Is there anything wrong with it? It’s rather rude to ask that, I know, but now and then when there’s something a wee bit wrong with something one gives it to someone else hoping they won’t notice.”
“There’s nothing wrong with it,” Chizzy said roughly. “And if you don’t want it I’ll take it back again.”
And she did. She took it home and fed it to Newf and Shep who found nothing wrong with it at all.
It was almost dark when she appeared at the door of the family room to invite Ben to stay for dinner.
“We’re having something you specially like, Irish stew with dumplings.”
“Sounds great,” Ben said. “But somebody is expecting me at home.”
“Some woman, I suppose.”
“Actually she’s my assistant. I’m teaching her to read blueprints.”
Chizzy sniffed and said, “Since when does an architect hire an assistant who can’t already read blueprints? I can’t possibly eat a whole pot of Irish stew all by myself.”
“No, but I’ll give odds that you’ll try.”
“We can build a fire and I’ll leave the ashes right here in the pit, won’t go near them with a ten-foot pole. And for dessert—”
“Some other time, Chizzy,” Ben said and smiled at her, the kind of smile that every woman interpreted in her own way. To Chizzy it meant he would have liked nothing better than to stay and eat Irish stew but duty called and he was forcing himself to go home and face the rigorous demands of his assistant. To Howard he said, “May I have one last word?”