She looked so pitiful that I decided to spare her that. “Don’t worry about it, Ruth. I’ll tell him.”
When I got to Anne Arundel Medical Center and found my way to Daddy’s room on the second floor, he was sitting up in bed, watching television. He beamed at me, then aimed the remote at the TV and clicked it off. “Hi, sweetheart.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Peachy! I’m ready to blow this pop stand.”
I pulled a chair over and sat down in it. “Daddy, there’s something I need to tell you.”
“Hold that thought!” Daddy flung off the covers, revealing legs so skinny I was shocked. “Gang way! Gotta use the head.” He slid out of bed and padded across the tile in his bare feet.
While I waited for him to finish in the bathroom, I stared at my hands, wondering how I’d phrase it. Too soon, I heard a flush and Daddy crawled back into bed, pulling the covers taut around his body and tucking them in, like a cocoon, his arms resting on top. “OK. What is it?”
“There’s been a robbery at your house.”
“A robbery?” His eyes grew wide.
“The TV and DVD. All your stereo equipment.” I thought I’d fire that round and let it soak in before dropping the bomb about the missing CD’s.
“Nope. I gave Darlene a key.”
“What do you mean, you gave Darlene a key?”
“Just that.”
“Somebody mention my name?”
Daddy turned toward the door, a grin as wide as the Golden Gate Bridge plastered across his face. “Good to see you, sweetheart.”
Blood rushed to my head and I thought I was going to pass out. Sweetheart! That was what Daddy always called me!
Darlene set a colorful shopping bag on the bedside tray table and bent to kiss my father lightly on the lips. “So, what am I supposed to have done?”
Daddy looked at me. “I was just telling Hannah that I gave you a house key.”
She shrugged. “Seemed only fair since I gave him one of mine.”
I stared her down. “Somebody used a key to steal my father’s TV and stereo equipment today.”
“Well, it wasn’t stolen,” she said matter-of-factly. “Darryl helped me move it, at your father’s request.”
I glanced quickly at Daddy, who looked back almost guiltily.
Darlene’s face wore a look of triumph. “Since he’ll be moving in with me.”
Daddy smiled crookedly. “See, you were worried for nothing.”
I was certain this plan was a surprise to him, but if Darlene was as calculating as I feared, she probably figured that where the opera recordings went, so went the man. Ruth had lost this round. Score one for Darlene.
“So it seems,” I said. I regarded Darlene coolly. High black boots disappeared beneath the hem of a Burberry raincoat made bulky by the addition of a zip-in lining. Her blond hair frizzed out behind each ear and was held in place with silver combs.
“It’s the most logical thing. He still needs looking after.” She laid a palm on his forehead like a mother checking a child’s temperature. “Don’t you, Georgie?” She straightened blankets that were already pathologically straight. “And Ruth, well, she has to work, doesn’t she?”
“Seems you have this all planned.” I turned to my father. “Daddy?”
Darlene smiled at Daddy, stiff-mouthed, as if daring him to contradict her. Daddy tore his eyes from his girlfriend’s face and looked at me blankly. He nodded. “It’s for the best.”
Suddenly he grabbed my hand and squeezed. “You will come to the party, won’t you?”
“If I’m invited.”
“Of course you’re invited,” he insisted passionately, still not letting go of my hand. “Tell her, Darlene.”
“Sure. Bring Ruth, your husband, Emily. Hell, bring the whole family.”
“I can’t speak for everyone, of course, but I’ll try. Georgina and Scott won’t be available. They’re taking the kids to his parents in Arizona for the week before Christmas.”
Darlene shrugged. Whether we came to her damn party or not was clearly of little or no consequence to her. She picked up the Styrofoam water pitcher and jiggled it, then removed the lid and peered in. “You need more ice, Georgie.” She pressed the call button that would summon a nurse, then began straightening the newspapers that lay strewn about the floor.
While she was bending over The Baltimore Sun, I walked my hand along the tray table until it touched the bag Darlene had brought. I poked at it. Something solid. With my index finger I peeled down the top of the bag and peeked inside. Absolut. Darlene was bringing our father a bottle of vodka!
I wrapped all my fingers around the neck of the bottle, fighting the very real urge to smash it over the stupid woman’s head. “Darlene? Can I see you for a minute? In the hall?”
She looked genuinely puzzled, but shrugged and followed me out the door.
Holding the contraband in front of me, I walked nearly to the nurses’ station, seething, before I turned on her. “What’s this?” I hissed, waving the bottle under her nose.
“It’s a little prezzie for your dad.”
I shook the bottle at her again. “Darlene, he doesn’t need this. In case you hadn’t noticed, Daddy has a big problem with alcohol!”
She blew air out through her lips. “No, he doesn’t! He just drinks a little too much sometimes. Haven’t you ever done that?”
I had, but it was a long time ago. The memory of a hangover the size of a satellite map of Hurricane Floyd kept me from doing it ever again.
“Vodka is not going to help.”
“You’re overreacting.”
“No, I’m not.” I stuffed the bottle deep into my bag. “And I’m not going to let you give this to him.”
“Fine. See if I care,” she huffed.
I touched her arm, but she drew back as if I’d given her an electric shock.
“Darlene, if you really care for my father, you’ll help him take control of his drinking.”
She glared at me with narrowed eyes. “A little beer and wine never hurt anybody.”
I couldn’t believe anyone could be so ignorant. Didn’t she read the newspapers? Didn’t she watch television? “For an alcoholic, even a little is too much,” I said.
“He’s had a tough time,” Darlene whined. “We both have. We deserve to live a little.”
I stepped close to her, so close I could tell that she showered with Irish Spring. “Just make sure all that living doesn’t kill you.” I spun on my heel and hurried away from her down the hall, feeling her cat-green eyes drilling into my back.
7
After the Absolut episode, I had half a mind to forget calling the police to let them know that Darlene’s son, Darryl, wasn’t a thief, at least not in the technical sense of the word. Fortunately for Darryl, the regions of my brain where scientists chart charity, compassion, and mercy prevailed in me. Poor schnook couldn’t help it that his mother was a professional, uh, girlfriend.
Besides, I would soon learn that I knew a couple of thieves myself, was harboring one, in fact, right under my own roof. Late Wednesday, Emily informed me matter-of-factly that she and Ruth had taken it upon themselves to remove some items from Daddy’s house “for safekeeping.” When pressed, she confessed that she and her aunt had liberated the silverware, Grandmother Barton’s china, Mother’s jewelry, and the Waterford crystal that my mother hadn’t even had time to unpack before she died.
“Where did you put the stuff?”
“We’ve decided not to tell. That way, when you’re asked, you can truthfully say ‘I don’t know.’ ”
“But what if your grandfather notices the things are gone?”
Emily shrugged. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, I guess.”
I thought the move was risky and I told her so, but I was secretly pleased that they had taken matters into their own hands. We had all noticed things disappearing from my parents’ home over the past several months-a pair of sterling silver ashtrays, an Etruscan horse, a crackleware vase, a formal portrait of my father in his Navy uniform. There was no point asking Daddy about them. It didn’t take Hercule Poirot to figure out whose mantel that horse was prancing on. In a few days, I would be driving to Chestertown and could visit the horse myself.