After the sting wore off, Susan knew Fair would immediately set about to find another woman to love, and the by-product of this love would mean that the new wife would do the food shopping, juggle the social calendar, and keep the books. All for love.
Did Susan do this for Ned? In the beginning of the marriage, yes. After five years and two kids she had felt she was losing her mind. She balked. Ned was ripshot mad. Then they got to talking, really talking. She was fortunate. So was he. They found common ground. They learned to do with less so they could hire help. Susan took a part-time job to bring in some money and get out of the house. But Susan and Ned were meant for each other, and Harry and Fair were not. Sex brought them together and left them together for a while, but they weren’t really connected emotionally and they certainly weren’t connected intellectually. They were two reasonably good people who needed to free themselves to do what came next, and sadly, they weren’t going to free themselves without anger, recrimination, and dragging their friends into it.
Susan’s thoughts were abruptly short-circuited.
A siren echoed in the background, growing louder until the Crozet Rescue Squad ambulance flashed down the road, effectively ending the Harry versus Fair reverberation. They all ran out in front of the post office.
Harry, without thinking, touched Josiah’s arm. “Not old Dr. Johnson.” He had been her childhood physician and was becoming stooped and frail.
“He’ll live to be one hundred. Don’t worry.” Josiah patted her hand.
The ambulance turned south on the Whitehall Road, also known as Route 240.
Big Marilyn Sanburne’s Volvo sped to Shiflett’s Market. She stopped and slammed the door of her car.
She thumped over to the group.“I damn near got run off the road by the Rescue Squad. They probably scare to death as many people as they save.”
“Amen,” Josiah agreed. He started to leave.
Harry called him back.“Josiah, you’ve got to sign and pay for a Turnbull and Asser package.”
“It came.” He beamed and then the glow went into remission. “How much?”
“One hundred and one dollars,” Harry answered.
Josiah bore the blow.“Well, some things one cannot postpone from motives of economy. Consider the people I am compelled to meet.”
“Di and Fergie,” Harry solemnly intoned.
In fact, Josiah was in the vicinity of the Royals whilst in London buying up George III furniture before taking a hovercraft across the channel to acquire more of his beloved Louis XV.
Mim wheeled on Josiah, her constant escort whenever she could dump husband Jim.“Still dining out on that story.”
“My dear Mim, I merely do business with royalty. You know them as friends.” An allusion to the obscure Romanian countess much touted by Big Marilyn, who, when she was eighteen, paraded the European beauty about Crozet.
In the late fifties, Mim had looted Europe for Faberg? boxes and George III furnishings, her favorite period. Jim Sanburne didn’t know what he was getting into when he married Mim—but then, who does? In Paris, Mim encountered a friend of the countess who told her the woman was a bakery assistant from Prague, albeit a beautiful one. Whoever she was, she was smart enough to outwit Mim, and Mrs. Sanburne did not take kindly to a reminder, nor did she appreciate the fact that the countess seduced Jim—but then, he was an easy lay. She made him pay for that indiscretion.
Pewter thundered out of the market as a customer opened the door. She was so fat that when she ran, her stomach wobbled from side to side.
Susan giggled.“Someone ought to put that cat on a diet.” She diverted the topic of conversation but didn’t mind Mim’s moment of discomfort.
Pewter stood on her hind legs and scratched the post office door.“Let me in.”
Harry opened the door for her as the humans kept talking outside. Pewter burst into the P.O., filled with importance. Even Mrs. Murphy paid attention to her.
“Guess what?” The gray whiskers swept forward and Pewter leaped onto the counter—not easy for her, but she was so excited she made it in one try.
Tucker craned her head upward.“I wish you’d come down here and tell your tale.”
Pewter brushed aside the corgi’s request.“Market got a call from Diana Farrell, of the Rescue Squad. You know Market does duty on weekends sometimes and they’re friends.”
“Get to the point, Pewter.” Mrs. Murphy swished her tail.
“If that’s your attitude, I’m leaving. You can find out from someone else.”
“Don’t go,” Tucker pleaded.
“I am. I am most certainly going. I know when I’m not wanted.” Pewter was in a real huff. She puffed her tail, and as Harry opened the door to come in she ran out.
“You’re so rude,” Tucker complained.
“She’s a windbag.” Mrs. Murphy did not feel like apologizing.
Josiah was paying out money and grumbling.
“She may be chatty,” Tucker said,“but if she ran over here in this blistering heat, it had to be something big.”
Mrs. Murphy knew Tucker was right, but she said nothing and curled up on the counter instead. Tucker, out of sorts, whined for Harry to open the door beside the counter. Harry did and Tucker lay down on her big pillow under the counter.
An hour passed with people coming and going. Maude Bly Modena opened her copy ofVogue and she and Harry read their horoscopes.
Maude declared that there were only twelve horoscope readings. Whatever the horoscope was for your sign, it would be moved to the next sign tomorrow. So if you were a Scorpio, your reading would move to Sagittarius the following day, and Libra’s reading would then be yours. It took twelve days to complete the cycle. When Harry giggled with disbelief, Maude said people don’t remember their horoscopes from one day to the next. They’d never remember twelve days’ worth.
Maude said that instead of remembering an entire reading, remember the phrase“Opposite sex interested and shows it.” That phrase will move through each sign in succession.
By the time Maude finished, Harry was laughing so hard she didn’t care if Maude’s theory was true or not. The important thing was that it was fun and Harry needed to know she could still have fun. Divorce was not the end of the world.
Harry’s projection for August was “Revise routine. Rebuild for future. Important dates: 7th, 14th, and 29th.” Important for what, this stellar prophecy declined to reveal. Harry swore she’d test Maude’s theory after Maude left. She clipped the horoscope but within fifteen minutes it had gottenmixed up with postal patron notices.
Little Marilyn Sanburne came in and cooed about her wedding, sort of. With Little Marilyn a coo came from the more obscure regions of her throat. Harry pretended to be interested but personally felt Little Marilyn was making a huge mistake. She couldn’t even get along with herself, much less anyone else.
A full hour passed before Market Shiflett pushed through the door.
“Harry, I would have come over sooner but it’s been bedlam—sheer bedlam.” He wiped his brow.
“Are you all right?” Harry noticed he looked peaked. “Can I get you something?”
He waved no, and then leaned up against the counter to steady himself.“Diana Farrell called me. Kelly Craycroft—at least they think it’s Kelly Craycroft—was found dead about ten this morning.”
Tucker jumped up.“See, Mrs. Murphy? I told you she knew something big.”
Mrs. Murphy realized her mistake but couldn’t do a damn thing about it now.
“My God, how?” Harry was stunned. She thought maybe a heart attack. Kelly was at that dangerous age for a man.
“Don’t rightly know. The body’s all tore up. Found him in one of the big cement grinders. He’s not even in one piece. Diana said that if he was shot in the head or any other part of the body, they’d never know. Sheriff’s Department has impounded the mixer. Guess they’ll search for some lead in there. You know, Kelly was always climbing to the top of that mixer to show it to people.”