Skye noticed her mother’s pallor and fetched her a glass of cold punch. “Here, Mom, you look as if you could use this.”
May downed the liquid in one gulp and handed the empty cup to Skye. “Thanks.”
The silent treatment. Skye hated when her mother stopped talking to her. Usually May never quit chattering, so when she spoke in single words, Skye knew she was in hot water.
“Look, Mom, I’m sorry about yesterday.”
“This isn’t the place to talk about it.” May spotted people beginning to arrive, and moved toward the door. She whispered over her shoulder, “Just stay out of trouble today.”
Skye was scanning the crowd for Vince when someone grabbed her arm from behind and yanked. She turned, swallowing a scream, when she saw her Uncle Dante.
He pulled her toward a door leading to the catechism classrooms. “I want to talk to you, young lady.”
Her stomach dropped. Short of creating a scene, Skye could see no way to break loose. “Let’s talk here. I was just going to get something to eat. We could sit together.”
Dante’s eyes narrowed, which caused them to all but disappear under his jutting brow. “Not in public.”
She had never seen her uncle like this. He dragged her out of the common area, and shoved her into a room decorated with children’s drawings of Jesus. Dante pushed her into a child-sized chair and pulled over the teacher’s chair for himself. “What do you think you’re doing questioning my son?”
“Questioning him? Me? I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She could almost make herself believe her own words, since her conversation with Hugo seemed years ago rather than yesterday afternoon.
“Don’t play dumb with me, Missy!” Dante roared. “You talked to both Hugo and Victoria about how much money they had.”
“It was just conversation. I hadn’t seen them in a long time and commented on how well they seem to be doing.” She rounded her eyes. “I had no idea a car salesman could make so much money.”
Dante puffed out his chest. “Hugo’s the best, and Prescott’s going to do even better.”
“Yes, that private school is certainly impressive.” Skye relaxed a little. She could almost rest her chin on her knees, the chair was so small. “Do you help them with tuition?”
Dante’s face turned an alarming shade of reddish-purple and his voice grew louder. “You don’t get it, do you? I’m telling you to lay off my family. Quit asking questions.”
Skye rose and started edging toward the door. “I’m just surprised you’d agree with Hugo.”
“About what?” Dante’s bulging brow wrinkled.
“About subdividing Grandma’s land instead of farming it.” With her hand on the knob she grew brave. “I mean, you were always the one who said if Grandma lived much longer, we’d have to start selling off the land to pay for her care, and it would be such a shame to lose it for farming.”
“Subdividing it? What are you talking about?” Dante seemed to notice for the first time that she wasn’t sitting any longer, and he started to lever himself off his seat.
“Didn’t Hugo tell you about his lunch with that guy from the Castleview housing development company?” Skye eased the door open.
Dante sank back into his chair. His answer was almost inaudible. “No, no he didn’t.”
That had certainly hit a chord. She’d never seen Dante lose his bluster so fast. As she left the room, Skye said over her shoulder, “I wonder what else he didn’t tell you.”
Skye saw the twins sitting together at a long empty table. From the debris surrounding them, she surmised that their children and spouses had already been and gone. She quickly took a glass of punch and made her way over to Ginger and Gillian.
“Mind if I join you?” she asked, hoping they weren’t too angry at her after the incident with their mother yesterday. She didn’t relish being kidnapped again, nor the idea of another five-mile hike home.
Ginger and Gillian paused in their conversation and nodded after a brief hesitation.
“How’s your mother? I’m sure sorry about yesterday.”
“Did you really accuse her of murdering Grandma?” Gillian asked.
“No! I just commented on how much work it had been for her to serve Grandma three meals a day, and that things would be easier for her now.”
Gillian pushed her dish away and sighed. “She’s okay. Something happens; then she’s fine. At least she didn’t have one of her spells.”
Her cousins were really being nice about yesterday’s incident. Maybe she had misjudged them. “Did her visit to Carle Clinic help with her spells?”
“Could be,” Ginger said. “You know Mama, we don’t discuss things like that.”
Before Skye could reply, two young boys came tearing around the table, chased by two little girls. The boys threw themselves at Ginger, screaming at the top of their lungs.
Skye was astounded when her cousin failed to respond. She neither scolded them for the commotion, nor checked to see if there really was a problem. Instead Ginger sat still while they swarmed over her, grabbing bits of food from various dishes.
The little girls scrambled up on chairs, their short party dresses exposing their thighs and underpants. They too were talking so loudly Skye thought her ears would start bleeding.
Finally, carrying the food they had liberated from their parents’ plates, the children ran off, scattering adults as they went.
Skye sat silently, amazed that neither parent had intervened. Ginger took a sip of coffee as if nothing had happened.
“What were we talking about?” Gillian broke off a piece of cookie and popped it into her mouth.
“Ah . . . Ah, your mom’s health. Do you know what’s wrong with her?”
“Well, part of it is she’s going through the change, so she’s embarrassed to talk about it.” Gillian drew circles on the white paper tablecloth with her damp cup.
“But menopause isn’t that big a deal anymore, is it? I thought they had a pretty safe and effective hormone therapy now.”
Ginger shrugged. “Mom doesn’t want to take drugs, so she’s having a rough time.”
“You girls can’t talk her into it?”
They both shook their heads.
Skye got up. “I’m going to get some water. You all want anything?”
“More coffee would be great. Cream and two sugars. Thanks.” Ginger handed Skye her cup.
When Skye returned, her cousins’ husbands had joined them. Both looked uncomfortable in their funeral clothes. Flip Allen, Ginger’s husband, was a big, hulking guy whose suit appeared to have been borrowed from his little brother. His wrists and ankles showed from their respective cuffs.
He was speaking as Skye slipped into her seat. “Geez, honey, me and the boys have been going fishing up north since before we got married. I can’t let them down. They count on my paying my part of the freight.”
Irvin Tubb, Gillian’s husband, joined in. He was short and round, as his name suggested. “Yah, we been doin’ this since high school. What’s the fuss this time?”
Gillian lowered her voice. “Money. We could use that money for other things. I need a new washer and dryer, Kristin has outgrown all her clothes, and I’m still waiting for you to pave the driveway.”
Ginger nodded. “Yeah, our kids need clothes too, and my van has just about had it. We can’t afford for you to go this year.”
Flip wrinkled his forehead. “Well, all right, but I thought you were getting a bunch of money when the old lady died.”
Irvin added, “Yeah, you two were always talkin’ about the expensive jewelry she had, and how you’d get a good price for it when she finally kicked off.”
“Why doncha say it a little louder?” Gillian sneered. “You idiot. Now Miss Smarty Pants over here will think we killed Grandma.”