All Who Are Lost (Ashmore's Folly Book 1) (22 page)

“Sure.” Lucy shrugged and finished off her water. “Why not? If you’d been here, I’d know all the whys and wherefores. I’m your sister, remember? Sisters tell each other these things.” No better way to start than to go for the jugular. Laura reminded herself to stay alert. “So? What happened?”

“We just didn’t want to be married,” Laura said blandly. “Most amicable split in history.”

Lucy said shrewdly, “I doubt it was as easy as that. He looked like he had an ego, in fact he looked to me like he wrote the book on ego, and you’re certainly not as meek and mild as you used to be.” She fiddled with her swizzle stick. “How did he get along with Francie?”

Oh, clever Lucy. How could she have forgotten the Byzantine paths of Lucy’s mind, her subtle means of extracting information? She decided to stick with a modicum of the truth. “Not well. She thought he was stuffy, and he thought she was a spoiled brat.”

Lucy said softly, “Past tense? For him or for her?”

She had seen this coming, but, oh, how it hurt, after her grieving on the Chesapeake, to say it, as if the saying made it real.

“She’s dead.”

Lucy’s shock filled a long silence. She broke it finally with a whisper. “Poor little Francie. Dead. How strange. I never
felt
it, and I thought I would have known…. I wasn’t surprised when Di found Dominic dead, I just felt the
absence
of him, but Francie – oh, Laurie, how awful for you. You were so close to her. When?”

The lie fell easily from her lips. “A plane crash. In the Panhandle. She went skiing with some friends, and they went down coming back from Angelfire. It – it was quick, Lucy. She didn’t suffer.”

“Oh, Laurie.” Lucy touched her shoulder, the warmth of her fingers through the cotton gentle and comforting. “Oh, baby, I’m so sorry. She and I didn’t get along, that was no secret, but I was always glad that you two had each other. I don’t like to think of you being alone all this time.”

She repeated, like a talisman, “She didn’t suffer.”

“Maybe she didn’t,” said Lucy, and this time it was she who held out her arms, like a mother, like a sister, like the guardian angel she had once been, “but, oh, Laurie,
you
did.”

~•~

Their tears required another repair job at the mirror. When they returned back to the table, they ordered more mineral water and agreed that they needed privacy. “Not that I don’t want to show you off,” said Lucy, ushering Laura to her office, “but we may get soggy again, and it’s bad for morale to see the boss crying.”

Laura glanced at the time. “I’m keeping you, aren’t I? Do you have plans for the evening?”

Lucy grimaced and settled down behind the desk. “Yes, we’re entertaining one of Tom’s clients. I never entertain mine, I just tell him to get what he wants out of the fridge—” She caught Laura’s mystified look. “Richard. I do his legal work. He has his own practice too, did he tell you?”

“Yes.” Lucy had handed her the perfect opening. “He said that he and Di broke up.”

“He did!” Lucy nearly dropped her Perrier. “That’s incredible! He
never
talks about her to outsiders. Well, I mean, you’re not an outsider, but—”

“I’m an outsider,” Laura finished. “That’s okay. When did they get divorced?”

“Divorced? They’re not divorced.”

“What?” She let her astonishment show. What
had
he said about Diana? Not enough, obviously. “I could swear – he said the marriage was dead, he got Julie—”

Lucy laughed shortly. “Dear Richard! Ever tactful. He threw her out years ago.”

Laura sat up straight. “Why?”

“A lot of reasons. He was right to do it. She wasn’t fit to be around Julie, and he couldn’t take it anymore. She pushed him too far.”

Richard had thrown Diana out? But it was Richard who had strayed…. It glimmered again, the great unknown, the hidden fissure in the marriage that had led to Francie’s triumph over Diana that spring. The affair with Francie had not blown in out of nowhere. Something, sometime, somewhere, had broken the bonds holding Richard and Diana together.

Or maybe you hope that because it’s the only way to salvage him.

She asked, “Why aren’t they divorced?”

“They’re legally separated.” Lucy had relaxed again. “It’s called divorce from bed and board here in Virginia – they just can’t remarry. Not that Di ever would, but Richard should have remarried years ago. And Julie lives with him. No joint custody.”

“Why not?”

“Oh, Lord.” Lucy sighed and fiddled with her bottle. “I was hoping to avoid this for a while longer, but I guess you’ll find out sooner or later. Di has some very serious problems, and – and she’s not always dealt with them well. Plus, Julie is a sweet, darling girl – we do a lot together, we’re very close – but she
defines
daddy’s girl. It used to be Richard protecting his little girl, but she’s sixteen now, and it’s more Julie than Richard saying she won’t see Di out of loyalty to her father.”

She couldn’t imagine letting a child, even one nearly grown, making such a decision. One possibility occurred to her; she picked her words cautiously. “Does Di see other men?”

“Good heavens!” Lucy finally relinquished her drink before she dropped it once and for all. “Have you been a fly on the wall all these years?”

“They’re separated. It’s a logical assumption.”

“I guess so. Yes, Di dates around.” Lucy wet her finger and drew circles on the desktop. “Not that Richard can throw stones. He’s no monk. Oh, don’t look so shocked. He’s had women. I don’t blame him. Why shouldn’t he date? He’s an attractive man, and for most purposes he’s single. He’s not treated like a husband, so why should he act like one?”

She remembered – oh, God, how memory betrayed her, that it chose now to thrust upon her the feeling of his arms around her, his hand against her back, the harmony of their bodies. She didn’t care how priggish she sounded. “Because he is one, that’s why.”

Lucy said reflectively, “I think he stopped feeling married after Mom and Dad died. He came back from a trip, and he’d stopped wearing his ring, and to me, that marked the end. Besides,” she shrugged, “he’s had a hard time with Di, but he hasn’t abandoned her, and for that, I’ll forgive him anything. She doesn’t really want a divorce, you know. She knows she’d lose Julie forever. Did you and your husband fight over Meg?”

“No. There was never any question that Meg stayed with me.”

“I’ve seen custody fights,” Lucy said, “and I never saw anything as vicious as the way Di and Richard went after each other when they separated. My God, it was bloody! She started it, Dominic got involved, Mom and Dad filed affidavits against her, I got subpoenaed – and then one day she dropped it. Just dropped it. No explanation, just threw up her hands and said
I surrender
and went her merry way. I’ll give Richard credit, he fought for Julie tooth and nail, and he takes good care of her. He’s a good father. He may not have been the best of husbands, but then Di hasn’t been a sterling wife either.”

All this history, all this pain, had lain behind his eyes the night before. And she, absorbed in her own anguish, had not seen it. She drew in a deep breath. “Maybe not, but even if Julie is a daddy’s girl, she needs her mother.”

“I try,” said Lucy. “Richard tries to be all things to Julie, but even he knows that she needs a woman’s guidance. Not that it really helps. Julie is sweet and intelligent – with that gene pool, how could she miss – but she’s isolated after school hours, living out there in the country. So she’s comfortable with adults – you’ll find that you can talk to her about anything – but, Lord, is she
young
.”

“Meg’s just the opposite,” said Laura, and silently blessed her daughter. “I’d like her to stay a little girl a while longer, but I think that’s a lost cause.”

“You’re so lucky.” Lucy sounded wistful. “What’s she like?”

“A miniature Bette Davis.” Laura eyed her sister surreptitiously. Her own doomed pregnancies had always glowed in her skin and shone in her hair, but maybe Lucy was different. Or maybe her suspicions were off base. “She’s grown up so much in the last year. She used to be very willful and demanding, but now she – well, sometimes, she tries to take care of
me
—”

But any other maternal musings were swallowed up then, by Lucy’s sudden lack of attention as her eyes swiveled to the closed door behind Laura, by the faint sound of a pretty voice talking, by the faint squeak of the knob turning and that same sweet voice saying breathlessly, “Okay, Luce, I know you’re upset, you’re right to be, I’m sorry—”

Then shocked silence, and a scream.

The sound shattered the air. And now she had to move, break the paralysis of this moment, confront the architect of her nightmares. She had to, because Diana still stood behind her and Lucy sat across from her, stunned frozen, and she could not endure another second waiting for someone to speak.

Laura stood up and looked into the eyes of Francie’s killer.

Oh, she had wondered about this, the moment when she would recognize the guilt in Diana’s eyes. Eleven years did not suffice to wash away the blood shed by Diana’s hands. But she had not known, she had never dreamed, how the shadows had touched Diana, how empty her glittering eyes had become, how old she would look, how sick.

Di, Di! What have you done? Where are you?

She should never have shown her shock, she should have controlled herself better, for Diana’s eyes flamed in acknowledgment of that shock, and that pretty voice spat, “You
bitch!
How dare you—”

Laura drew in a breath that rasped her throat, a sound covered by Lucy’s quick, “No, no, Di! It’s not her, it’s Laurie!”

“What?” Diana’s attention was arrested. Her forward movement stopped as she snapped around to face Lucy, and just as quickly she swung around to Laura.

And she changed, in the moment of that turn. Laura watched in astonishment, her horror forgotten, as Diana’s face lightened and the harsh hatred drained from her eyes. And then Diana moved towards her, and, back against the wall, she felt herself forced into her oldest sister’s embrace.

“Laurie!” The old, alluring music had returned to Diana’s voice. “Oh, honey! I didn’t recognize you, I thought you were Francie!” Laura felt herself snap rigid; she felt the warmth of Diana’s breath, the icy condensation of Diana’s drink against her blouse, between them. “It’s so good to see you! What a shock, I had no idea – when did you get here?”

“Yesterday. I’m glad to be back.” She had lost control of her tone. She sounded too effusive, too placating. Too much the younger sister, needing her elders’ approval, not enough the survivor of Diana’s war with Francie.

“You’ve grown.” Diana held her at arm’s length and eyed her critically. “And you dress so much better. I don’t remember you wearing anything but jeans. And your hair—”

Of all the things she had thought to discuss with Francie’s killer, clothes had not ranked high. Had Diana forgotten that Francie was dead? Sickening thought. “Well, what did you expect?” She laughed shakily. “I’m thirty-one. I couldn’t stay a teenager forever.”

Wrong thing to say! She’d reminded them that, if their baby sister was thirty-one, they were closer to forty. Annoyance flashed across Diana’s face, and Lucy, sitting still across the room, had uncharacteristically drawn into herself.

“You look so grown-up now,” Diana recovered gracefully. And before Laura could retort that she
was
grown-up now, a full-fledged adult, her sister moved to the phone. “And I think all this calls for a drink! We need to celebrate your coming home. What will you have, Laurie?”

“Tea?” She couldn’t identify the amber drink in Diana’s glass.

Lucy came back to life and waved her Perrier bottle at Diana. “Order some food too, Di. You look hungry.”

“Oh, I don’t need anything, really, I’m not hungry.” She sparkled a smile at Laura. “I’m too excited to eat! I’ll just have my drink.”

“Order something,” Lucy repeated, and did not clothe the steel in her voice.

Diana did look hungry. The freshness of skin had given way to a thinness that made her cheekbones stick up unattractively and her eyes sink into her face. Even her hair seemed dull now. Her pupils were dilated; she kept sniffing as if she had a bad cold.
He threw her out…. He was right to do it.

So one of Diana’s “very serious” problems lay in the bottom of a tumbler of Scotch. She had forgotten the DUI arrest report. And the other….
I’ve seen this, I know this. Oh, Di, no….

Lucy ended up ordering for them all. Laura paid her little attention, her eyes fixed on the wraith who perched on the side of the desk and proceeded to launch into an interrogation that even Lucy had not had the nerve to attempt. And, as she asked, as she probed, as her eyes unflinchingly never left Laura, she drained her tumbler.

No
where-have-you-been
. No
why-are-you-here
. No
why-didn’t-you-call-us
. And no
where’s-Francie
.

Because Diana knew. For all that drama, Diana knew that Francie could never walk in the door.

“
I
want to know about your singing. Daddy almost had a heart attack the first time he heard you. What possessed you? I thought you were training for opera.”

“No,” said Laura. “Daddy thought I was training for opera.”

Diana raised an eyebrow in acknowledgment and nodded; her nod, a shade too deep and quick, almost threw her off balance. Laura was astounded at Lucy’s cool indifference – didn’t she see how stoned Diana was? “I hear you there. Daddy was always after me about my voice, when all I really wanted to do was study piano. But this techno rock mysticism whatever? You can’t imagine what he had to say about that.”

Oh, yes, she could. She had read his review. She said carefully, “I know Daddy looked down on classical crossover. I can give you all the usual arguments – I use tried and true compositional patterns, I draw on folklore and mythology for my source material, I’m in the vein of the Romantics – but the truth is I like telling stories through music. I feel lucky that others like it too.”