Closet Confidential (11 page)

I swung by Rose Skipowski’s place, hoping to catch Lilith between shifts, chowing down at Rose’s seventies-style dining table. Their deal for a roof over Lilith’s head in return for helping Rose was working well for both. I was lucky and caught her as she was leaving. Rose opened the door. She was resplendent in a lilac jogging suit and neon runners and lit up at the sight of me. Despite my protests, she immediately began to pack cookies for what she called my “trip home.” There seemed to be quite a few cookies, considering the trip was walkable on a good day. Still, I was thankful.

Lilith was rushing to get ready to work the dinner shift at a nearby seniors’ residence. “I have fifteen minutes to get there. Six ladies need me to accompany them to the dining room for the five-thirty dinner. One at a time!”

“Lilith,” I said a few minutes later as I walked with her toward Rose’s car, “I was curious. You are one of the few people who don’t sing Anabel’s praises. Is there something I should be aware of?”

Lilith turned away. I waited. Finally she said, “Maybe it’s me.”

I continued to wait, trying not to be distracted by the scent of the freshly baked cookies.

Lilith blurted, “She had everything. The gorgeous home, the famous beautiful mother, the adoring father, whatever college she wanted, no worries about money. She was naturally beautiful.”

This was all true, of course, but even if you left out narcissistic from the beautiful mother description, although it belonged there, you’d still have to think it was a tragedy that Anabel had died the way she did.

“That sounds horrible, I know.” Lilith kicked a stone. “But she didn’t have to work at Hope for Youth at Risk. She didn’t have to work at all. She had the world. Why did she have to have—?”

“Have to have what?”

“Who,” she said. “Why did she have to have who?”

“Okay.” I smiled encouragingly.

Lilith snorted. “You look like you need an antacid.”

“Fine, tell me who the ‘who’ is and I’ll go take one. Did Anabel get involved with someone you cared about?”

“Yes. No.”

“Ah. The old yes-no thing.”

She laughed despite herself. “Not someone I cared about, although I think he’s okay. But one of my friends.”

“Just so you know, I’m not giving up.”

She sighed and I had to remind myself that Lilith was still in her teens and not long off the streets herself, in part because of Hope for Youth at Risk. Once again, I waited.

“Jewel, my friend, was always good to me. She hasn’t had it easy.” Lilith could have written the book on not having it easy, but I refrained from comment. I nodded, though.

Lilith continued. “Jewel had a thing for this guy named Dimitri. He does a lot of work with Hope for Youth at Risk. She had no one, nothing. She’s beautiful and lovely and sad. Trying to get her life together. Dimitri liked her, too. I know it and—”

I interrupted, “Dimitri? Is he kind of attractive? Young?”

Lilith snorted. “Kind of attractive? Um, yeah. Like every woman’s fantasy kind of attractive.”

“I think I saw him at their office.”

“Leather jacket? Tormented soul expression?”

“That’s the one.”

“Anyway, then Anabel arrived at the agency. Even with her jeans and plaid work shirts, she still had those rich-girl looks. And pow! Dimitri got knocked off his feet.”

“Well,” I blurted, “I know what that’s like.”

“You mean your ex-fiancé?”

“Yeah.”

“You don’t know. What did you have left at the end?”

“No fiancé, for starters!”

“But everything else. Your car. Your job. Your savings. Your friends? Your life?”

I stared at her. “You mean that because of Anabel, Jewel lost everything? Didn’t she—?”

“She left. How could she stay connected to Hope for Youth at Risk if he was there drooling over Anabel? It was horrible for her. And because of this, I didn’t think that Anabel was all that saintly, you know? She could have let him down gently. Or meanly. She could have left herself, found another agency to play with. Why did she have to take everything away from Jewel?”

I considered what I knew about Anabel. “Do you think Anabel knew how Jewel felt? Or Dimitri for that matter?”

Lilith stared at me solemnly as she opened the door to Rose’s car. “I think she did. But if she hadn’t noticed, that would make it worse, wouldn’t it?”

The dogs were waiting with their legs crossed when I got home, so it took a while before I picked up my voice mail. I slipped them each one of Rose’s cookies and put the rest aside for Jack and me.

There were a couple of hang-ups from an unknown number that I figured might have been Tierney. Maybe I’d have to start calling him Connor if we were going on a second date.

There was one call from Wendy Dykstra, a pleasant and cheerful request that I call her back. The second was from Lorelei Beauchamp. Ramona had left a few brisk words to say that my clippings were ready. I had three potential clients wanting information about my services. I was slightly surprised by the message from Pepper.

“Call me on my cell phone,” she insisted. “Not at home.”

I couldn’t figure out what that might be about.

I returned the calls in order, Wendy first.

“Does it matter where I get rid of my old clothes?”

“Not at all. I always ask my clients to think about a charity for the ones that don’t fit but are in good condition. We’ll figure out what we can do with the rest. Don’t try to match each item to the perfect new home. Find one or two deserving places and let them go.”

“Oh boy, that’s great. I do a bit of volunteering at Galilee House and I was hoping I could donate them there. And I can take some of my old T-shirts to the animal shelter. They’re always looking for soft fabrics for bedding. I’ll do a bit of that ahead of time. Maybe it will make our job easier.”

I knew that our job would be easier anyway because Wendy was positive and enthusiastic and spent the bulk of her time thinking of other people. She’d given me a good idea.

I hesitated before I called Lorelei. Perhaps I could wait until after I’d returned the other calls. Get at it
,
I told myself. You can’t afford to waste energy because of procrastination.

Harry answered, sounding gallant as always. “Lovely to hear from you, Charlotte honey. Lorelei was up and around and in much better spirits this afternoon.”

Not if the tone in her message was anything to go by, I thought.

“Charlotte?” she said when she came on the phone. “I must apologize for this afternoon. I don’t know what came over me. I assure you that I will be ready for you for the rest of this project. I’d like you to come again tomorrow if you would. I’ll be waiting and willing.”

She was trying; I had to give her that.

She added, “I know it’s an imposition.”

I flipped open my agenda and said, “Sorry, Lorelei, I have only one o’clock tomorrow. Will that do?” It would come out of my business-planning time, but what the hell.

She said, “One o’clock’s too early for me. Tomorrow night, then? Harry would love to make you dinner.”

I noticed Harry hadn’t been consulted.

I said, “I have a previous engagement.” Tierney’s date was coming in handy already.

“You can’t change it?”

“Sorry. It took several weeks to arrange.” I felt a smile bloom.

“That’s a shame.”

“I have more flexibility on Wednesday. You can show me around, and if you aren’t feeling well, perhaps Harry will. Or if you prefer, we can decide to do the main closet in your dressing room.”

“Harry thinks it will keep me busy. He’s right. You may as well come tomorrow afternoon.”

Ignoring her total lack of enthusiasm, I said, “Lovely. And Lorelei?”

“Yes.”

“I have a little homework for you.”

“Homework!”

“That’s right. But you’ll be equal to the task.”

“What is it?”

“I need you to come up with a charity to donate your surplus clothing to. That is anything we decide not to keep or sell or throw out.”

“A charity?”

“That’s right. Lots of them use clothing donations to fund their services to people.”

She hesitated. “All right. I’ll think about it.”

“Excellent. See you tomorrow.”

“A lot of those clothes have never been worn, you know.”

“That’s fine, too. You don’t have to donate them if you don’t want to. Give some thought to which charity you will use for whatever you do discard.”

“All right. I don’t know what to suggest. Harry takes care of all that sort of business.”

“Why not discuss it with Harry in that case? I’m sure you’ll find some group that you like the sound of, someone who is doing good work with disadvantaged people in Rheingold or even Woodbridge. Even a national charity. You’ve lent your name and face to support more than one organization.”

As we said good-bye I was reminded of why Wendy’s project would be so much more fun. I knew that Lorelei needed this project, needed to reach out to me, and even more needed to give her wounded heart a rest. It had nothing to do with closets at all.

I finished up by making consultation appointments with two of the three potential clients for the following week. I figured Wendy’s job would be done very quickly, even if Lorelei’s might drag out. I decided to dash into the library that evening. I hoped I wouldn’t run into the rats who had reported me.

For some reason, Pepper wasn’t answering her cell phone.

Girls’ night was at Sally’s place. By the time I drove up, Margaret’s glossy black Volvo S80 and Jack’s dung-colored Mini Minor were parked side by side behind Sally’s huge SUV. It takes a lot of vehicle to haul Sally’s family from place to place. Not that she’s on the run that much: Four young children keep her fairly tied down. Sally’s husband, Benjamin, was a busy physician. He’d wisely scheduled a meeting for that night. No sign of his Lexus.

Margaret and I were exhausted by the time Dallas, Madison, Savannah, and little Shenandoah had settled in. Of course, we’d been left downstairs to straighten up. Sally and Jack got the kids to bed. Apparently there’s something about me that keeps them revved up for hours.

Margaret wasn’t into kids, although her parents made up for that. May I add they were not shy about mentioning it? She must have had a rough day in court, as she was snoring softly on Sally’s white leather sofa by the time Sally and Jack tiptoed down the stairs. That sofa had been the height of cool when Sally and Benjamin purchased it. It didn’t look as sleek now with the felt-tip marker designs that decorated one arm.

I said, “I’ll make the s’mores. You wake up Margaret.”