His words hit me like a bucket of cold water. If my own husband wouldn't believe me… et tu Paul? I covered his hand with my own. "Let me ask you this, Paul. If I died tomorrow, would you say, 'Oh well, must have been the chemo'?"
Paul blinked, clearly rattled.
"You saw how fit Valerie was," I said. “Trust me, it wasn't the chemo."
"Maybe not. But isn't it possible, just possible, that your concern over Valerie's death has caused your vision to be slightly skewed? You've convinced me that Jablonsky and this Steele fellow are crooks… but murderers? Are you sure you aren't blowing things just a bit out of proportion?"
I pressed my palms over my ears. "I'm not listening to you!"
"Okay, let's see what Dennis has to say and go from there. But Hannah?" He pulled one hand off my ear. "At least sit the man down with a beer before you pounce. Promise?"
I leaned over and kissed his cheek. "Promise."
It should have been a wonderful party.
Daddy arrived first, Neelie on his arm. "Good to see you again, Hannah." She kissed both my cheeks, then thrust a bag of designer cheese straws into my free hand.
"Thanks, Neelie," I said. "You look sharp." And she did, in a bright red blouse tucked into crisp white slacks, neatly belted. Her snow-white hair was parted slightly to one side, pulled into a low ponytail at the nape of her neck and finished with a silver barrette.
Daddy beamed. The man was besotted. The last time he'd looked at a woman that way, it'd been Mother.
I took a gulp of wine and swallowed, hoping to dull the ache in my heart. "Paul's manning the bar," I said, gesturing with the bag of cheese straws. "Club soda and lime, straight ahead."
"Is Dennis here yet?" Daddy asked me as Neelie pushed her way through the screen door and went out onto the patio ahead of him.
I shook my head. "Paul made me promise to give Dennis a few minutes before we spoiled his evening. So if I open my mouth too soon, you may have to sit on me." I put Neelie's cheese straws down on the kitchen table.
"Hannah, Hannah," Daddy said. "I think you were three years old the last time I was able to keep you from doing something once you set your mind to it." He started to follow Neelie, then turned back. "I know it was serious business yesterday, sweetheart. Thanks for trusting me to go along."
"Are you kidding? I would have been lost without you. You were terrific! Academy Award material. Now, shoo! Check in with Paul. I'm sure the charcoal needs starting."
Daddy patted my head and left me to my salad dressing.
Using scissors, I cut fresh herbs into a bowl, added a clove of garlic, and smashed them together with a pestle. I scraped the green goo into a bottle, added oil and vinegar, and shook vigorously. I tasted it. Bleah! Forgot to put in the salt. I corrected the seasonings, shook the mixture again, and dumped the dressing on the potato and vegetable mixture, tossing it lightly.
Through the kitchen window, I could see that Ruth and Hutch had arrived via the side gate. Ruth wore lavender harem pants and a loose, Indian-style shirt. In his business suit, Hutch was overdressed. As I watched, Ruth helped him off with his jacket. Smiling, he loosened his tie and drew it slowly out from under his collar. Take it off, take it off, take it all off, I chanted silently. Performing nightly at Chez Ruth's! Heeeeeerre's Hutch! At least I hoped so. Ruth had been through a long dry spell.
I went out to greet the new arrivals.
"Hutch." I extended my hand. "Nice to see you again."
"Ditto," he said, shaking mine.
"Drink?"
"G and T, if you have it."
I smiled. "I think that could be arranged." I pointed to Paul. "Check with the bartender over there."
"Mind if I smoke?" Hutch patted his pocket. Through the cotton I could see the outline of a pack of Marlboros.
Yes, I minded. I minded a lot. If I had my way, every pack of cigarettes would carry this Surgeon General's warning: Danger: Smoking killed my mother. Do you want to die, too?
"Just not in the house," I warned, already moving away.
I went looking for Paul, slipped my arm around him, held up my glass. "Barkeep, more wine!" He was happy to oblige.
When Connie and Dennis finally arrived, the corn water had just come to a boil. I clapped a lid on the pot and turned the heat to low. "Hello, hello!" Connie caroled as she made her way down the hallway to the kitchen.
She burst through the door, all smiles. I hugged her tightly. "Connie, I've missed you."
"It's only been three weeks," she said.
"I know. But I missed you all the same."
With one arm still wrapped around Connie's shoulders, I extended my hand to Dennis. "Thanks for coming, Dennis. I'm looking forward to talking with you."
Dennis stared at me. "You okay, Hannah?"
I swiped at my eyes, astonished to find that my eyelashes were wet. "Onions," I lied.
Connie shot me an oh-yeah-sure look. "Hannah, what's wrong?"
My face grew hot. Connie and Dennis began to shimmer, as if they were about to be beamed up to the starship Enterprise. "I'm sorry. It's just that the last time I saw you, at the race, Valerie Stone was still alive."
Connie located the tissues in a box on top of the refrigerator and handed one to me, standing by while I used it to dab at my eyes. "Is there anything we can do to help?"
I flapped a hand in front of my face, waving away my tears. "I'll be fine in a minute."
"Here," Connie said, taking charge. With a sweeping glance, she surveyed the kitchen. "Is the potato salad ready?" When I nodded, she said, "Dennis, you take that out and put it on the table. I'll join you in a minute. Is there wine?" she asked me. I nodded again. "Fix me a glass of wine, too, Dennis, will you?"
I'd left my wineglass on the table. Connie picked it up and handed it to me. "Here. Drink this. You'll feel better."
"Thanks." I took a couple of swallows then looked up at my sister-in-law. "It's not just Valerie," I said. I walked my wineglass over to the window. "Come here. I want you to see something."
When Connie joined me, I pointed out to the garden swing where Daddy and Neelie were sitting side by side. As we watched, Daddy said something and Neelie threw back her head and laughed. He grinned slyly, reached out and took her hand.
"I know nothing can bring my mother back… nothing. And I'm happy for my father, I really am. I adore Neelie. But when I see him like that, laughing. Ooooooh," I moaned. "It makes me miss my mother so much!"
Using both hands, I pressed the tissue into my eyes while Connie rubbed my back sympathetically. "I understand, Hannah, believe me. And I'm sure Paul does, too. It's been years since our mother died, but not a day goes by that I don't miss her. Sometimes I think of something I want to tell her and I'll actually pick up the telephone-" She shuddered.
"That's happened to me, too."
Connie stood with me silently by the window for a few more minutes, then took a breath and let it out slowly. "So, madam, what can I do to help?"
I crumpled the tissue and lobbed it into the trash. "Here," I sniffed. I handed her the platter of hamburger patties. "Can you take these out to the chef?"
"Who's cooking?"
"Paul volunteered."
"Just don't give them to Dennis," she warned. "The last time I put him in charge of the grill, he earned the nickname the Great Incinerator."
I laughed, feeling better already. "And can you bring in the corn? The water's ready."
The burgers were juicy, the corn sweet, the pie was like manna from heaven. I'd enlisted Ruth's help-she and Neelie were on cleanup crew in the kitchen-while Hutch blew smoke rings all by himself in the back garden.
All evidence of our recent feast had been cleared from the patio table except for the Box o' Wine, a carafe of decaf coffee, and a plastic tray of cream and sugar. As a courtesy to the kitchen crew, we'd graduated to plastic cups and spoons.