It took a second for Aunt Winnie to recover. She let out a loud laugh and said, “Oh, go pound sand, Gerald Ramsey! You’re still sore that Mrs. Bruster sold this place to me and not to you. And if you hadn’t been so rude to the woman, you might have had a chance of buying it. You’ve no one to blame but yourself!”
Gerald’s blue eyes narrowed and for a moment I was sure that he was about to blast Aunt Winnie. To my surprise, however, he shrugged his broad shoulders. “Touché, Winifred. But this isn’t over yet. Mark my words, one day this house will be mine.” He picked up a glass of champagne and with a mock toast said, “By fair means or foul.” He smiled as he said this, but even from where I stood, I could see that the smile didn’t reach his eyes.
CHAPTER 5
There are different kinds of wrong.
The people sinned against are not always the best.
—IVY COMPTON-BURNETT
I SWEAR TO God, Tom, if I find out that you’re having an affair with Susie, I will kill you.”
And with these words, shouted in the foyer by Karen, the show began.
We watched openmouthed as Karen stormed into the room and pulled up short, as if she was surprised to find us standing there. She wore a long gown of gray silk taffeta so voluminous that there could have been at least three prop guns hidden in its folds. A second later, Tom’s large frame filled the doorway. His broad face appeared flushed and angry. A thin sheen of perspiration covered his face and head.
“Er, good evening,” he said to all of us. “My name is Tom and this is my wife, Karen.”
“Hello, everyone,” she greeted us with an overbright smile.
I’m not sure how long we all stared at the two of them before I belatedly remembered that this was not a movie we were watching. We were supposed to interact with the actors as if they were actual guests. I returned their smiles and walked over with the tray of hors d’oeuvres.
“Good evening,” I said. “Would you care for something to eat?”
“No, but I’ll take a drink, if you’ve got one,” replied Karen.
Peter heard her and came with his tray of champagne. Karen grabbed one of the glasses and took a long sip. Tom watched her anxiously. “Darling,” he said, “don’t you think that …”
But whatever Tom thought, it was lost in the flurried arrival of the second couple of the acting troupe, Susie and Steven. Well, I think Steven entered the room. The neckline of Susie’s dress revealed so much cleavage that it blocked out all other visual stimuli. You didn’t want to look, but you couldn’t help it. And once you did look, it was difficult to see anything else. I sighed at the thought of my own neckline. My mother kindly describes my build as lithe, but the sad reality is that if I wore my bra backward, I’d probably get more cleavage from my shoulder blades.
“Well, hello, everyone,” purred a woman’s voice somewhere north of Susie’s chest. “I hope we’re not late?”
Aunt Winnie snapped back into her hostess mode and stepped forward to greet the newcomers. “Welcome, Susie. And hello, Steven. Hello, Eric. I didn’t see you at first.”
As I said, I don’t think anyone had. But now that I did focus on them, I could see that Steven appeared very agitated. His thin frame was quivering, and his eyes kept darting back and forth between Tom and Susie, as if he were watching for some sign, some hint, that they were indeed lovers. Eric was also in character. His posture was rigid and tense, and he watched Steven with worried eyes.
As I circulated among the actors with my rapidly diminishing supply of food, I heard Steven say to Eric, “I can’t take this anymore. I think I’m going crazy, man. I keep picturing them together.”
Eric patted Steven’s shoulder and said, “It’s going to be all right, Steven. Just keep it together, buddy. I promise you that everything is going to be okay.” Upon seeing me, Eric turned away.
I smiled as I roamed the room, listening in on the various conversations, happy that for once my penchant for eavesdropping was condoned. I looked around the room at the rest of Aunt Winnie’s guests to see if they were also enjoying the show.
Jackie’s clear laugh floated out. She looked like the proverbial kid in the candy store, smiling broadly as she eagerly watched and listened to the actors play their various parts, occasionally engaging one or two of them in conversation. Daniel also interacted with the actors. Well, actually with just one actor. He trailed Susie around the room like a besotted puppy. If nothing else, his behavior seemed to put to rest the rumor that he and Lauren were having an affair. He hadn’t spent more than five minutes with her since they arrived. Of course, he hadn’t spent more than five minutes with me, either, and I hadn’t imagined our near kiss in the garden earlier.
As I surveyed the room, I found Peter staring at me. As soon as we made eye contact, he looked away. As he’d never looked at me before except to criticize, I immediately glanced down at my dress, half expecting to see various spills and stains. It was clean. I ran my tongue over my teeth, wondering if something large and green was stuck there. Again, nothing. I was reminding myself that Peter could find fault with me even on my best days when an elderly man entered the room. The newcomer was tall with a mass of white hair, a short trim beard, and glasses so thick they magnified his brown eyes to almost three times their actual size. He hesitated a moment, as if uncertain where he should go, before Aunt Winnie spotted him. “Randy!” she cried excitedly. She rushed over and enveloped him in a huge hug.
Randy? I looked over at Peter for an explanation, but as he seemed to be looking to me for one, I took the newcomer to be Aunt Winnie’s surprise guest. Knowing her, he could be anyone from a voodoo doctor hired to perform a good-luck dance for the New Year, to her fiancé. Peter and I simultaneously crossed the room to where they stood.
Aunt Winnie glowed as she introduced us to Randy Whittaker. Apparently he was not a voodoo doctor. However, by the way Aunt Winnie was gazing at him, he might one day be her husband.
“Randy owns the best bookstore in town,” she said. “That’s where I met him.”
“Well, to be perfectly accurate,” said Randy, “we met in my back office after you burst in demanding to know why I was anti-Austen.”
Aunt Winnie turned to me, her face alight with indignation. “Not one of her books was on the shelves. Can you believe it? Not one. Shocking oversight.”
“And as I told you,” he said, with a fond smile, “we had sold out and the shipment was on its way from the warehouse.”
Aunt Winnie tossed her head. “I still say it’s a shocking oversight. It’s a good thing you’ve got charm on your side, Randy.”
Randy laughed and adjusted his glasses. “I think I could say the same of you, Winifred. Now enough of Austen. Have I missed anything?” He surveyed the room.
“You can never have enough of Austen,” Aunt Winnie retorted. “But no, you haven’t missed much. As you can see, Gerald is here. Let’s not have any fireworks, shall we?”
“Winifred, what do you take me for?” Randy replied indignantly.
“For a man who finds Gerald Ramsey as obnoxious as I do,” she replied briskly. Turning to Peter and me, she said by way of explanation, “In addition to wanting to buy the inn, Gerald is in the midst of putting together a real estate deal for one of those large bookstore chains. You know, the kind that also sells coffee and T-shirts. Randy was looking into selling his business, but with news of this deal, no one wants to buy it anymore.” Turning back to Randy, she linked her arm through his and said, “Now, I already filled you in on the performance; all you have to do is watch and listen. I’ll introduce you to the actors.” They walked away, leaving Peter and me alone. We stared blankly at each other.