Closet Confidential (16 page)

This time Lorelei was not only out of bed but also dressed and in full makeup. I was glad I’d taken the time to change from my closet-busting clothes into a pin-striped cotton jacket and trim gray pants and my teal blue heels. I hoped the jacket would give me a bit of authority with Lorelei, something so far sadly lacking.

“Harry’s been hovering,” she said with a blasé laugh. “His hand’s been over the Veuve Clicquot since noon.”

From far away, Harry said, “That’s not at all true, Charlotte honey. But it does remind me that today’s cocktail is a green dragon. Midori and bubbly.”

How could these people get through the day if they were tossing back cocktails from noon on?

“I think Lorelei’s ready.”

“I am,” she said.

I glanced at her and wondered if she’d taken some kind of mood-altering substance to get herself going on this day. If so, could a double slug of booze be anything but trouble in conjunction with it? On the other hand, Harry was crazy about Lorelei. He wouldn’t risk doing anything that would harm her.

“Charlotte honey?”

“No, thanks.” I was getting prissier by the minute. Was that what it meant to be over thirty? The next thing you knew, I’d be eating regular meals and exercising. Game over.

“All right then, but y’all let me know if you change your mind in a little bit.”

“Sure thing.”

Lorelei smiled slowly at me, the way you smile at the camera when your heart’s not in it.

“Are you looking forward to our project?” I asked as Harry arrived with the drinks.

She lifted one shoulder in an elegant gesture of unconcern. “As much as I am looking forward to anything.”

“Well, I hope it might be a bit of fun. Did you give any thought to the charity for donations?”

She glanced at her husband. “What was it again, Harry?”

“We do support Hope for Youth at Risk, because Anabel was so committed to it. But I don’t know if they have a clothing resale shop. Do they, Charlotte?”

“I don’t believe so. But there are lots of wonderful charities that do.”

Lorelei interrupted. “If there
is
anything to donate. I’m not sure. All my things are in beautiful condition, so maybe not.”

Harry gave her a startled glance. After all, she had seven closets crammed with high-end stuff. How could she begrudge a few cast-offs to the charity her own daughter had devoted her life to? Or any other charity for that matter. I reminded myself that Lorelei had been through a lot and perhaps that was why she was hanging on to what she could.

I whipped out the paperwork with a flourish. “I brought the contract with me. This might be a good time to have a look at it. You’ll see the terms set out there. Because this is an unusual job with so many closets, I’ll be charging by the hour, with a minimum number, in order to reserve enough time for you. My rates are on the last page. Take a look and see if it suits you. You should know what you’re getting into and feel no pressure, Lorelei.”

I’ve learned the hard way not to do anything past the initial consult without a contract. The consult is free if a contract comes out of it. Otherwise, it’s a one-hour job at my top fee. At this rate, I figured I would be spending untold hours at the Beauchamps’ and losing other clients as a result.

Lorelei shooed the contract away with a languid wave of her wrist. “Harry handles paperwork for me.”

I found myself checking Harry’s expression yet again. I wondered if he got tired of being the person who did everything. Or did it help him to keep busy? After all, he’d lost his daughter, too. Lorelei wasn’t the only one with a heart full of grief. From what I’d observed, Harry had been the parent who was always there for Anabel.

But Harry kept any emotion off his face as he checked out the terms of my standard contract.

Conversation stopped and I sat, waiting in a room that seemed to be full of ghosts.

A minute later, Harry raised his head and said, “This is fair and comprehensive, Charlotte. I’ll sign it right now. I see you’ve already signed both copies yourself.”

I smiled at Harry. “Can you sign both copies, too, please?”

Lorelei was busy staring out the window at nothing. If her demeanor was any indication, it was going to be a long day. My cell phone vibrated in my pocket. I don’t answer it when I am with clients, but I have to admit that I sure felt the urge. Instead, I turned to Harry and grasped for a conversational loophole. “I assume you have a closet, too?”

“Thank you for asking, Charlotte honey. I sure do.”

“Let me know if you want me to have a look at it. I’d be glad to.”

“You’re welcome to check it out, but you won’t find much of interest. Just the basics, hanging up, waiting for something to happen to get them out.”

“Why don’t we do that? And give Lorelei a moment with her thoughts.”

I don’t know if she even noticed us leave the room and walk up the long sculptural glass and metal staircase to the second floor. My cell phone vibrated again and again. Harry had his own room. The next one down from Lorelei’s, but not connected by a door inside either room. Harry’s room had an old southern elegance about it. Heavy, dark mahogany bedroom furniture that looked as though it might have been in the Beauchamp family for generations. A four-poster bed, a campaign desk. A gentleman’s highboy wardrobe. All polished to a fine patina and neat as a pin. On the campaign desk was a fairly recent picture of Harry and Anabel laughing and eating cotton candy at what looked like the Woodbridge Fair. Anabel had a large pink blob on her nose, and Harry seemed to find that funny. Anabel was forever captured in that happy moment.

Harry turned out to be absolutely correct about his storage. His closet was spare and orderly. He had the minimum of elegant menswear wear, hung neatly. The space between each hanger was the width of two fingers. A dozen crisp white shirts, five suits, a handful of sport jackets and pants. A place for everything and everything in its place. Even down to the polished shoes on the shoe trees. I approved. You don’t see much of that anymore.

Of course, seeing Harry’s closet was all a ploy, and the ploy was entirely mine. I had to admit it wasn’t unduly subtle, either. I wanted to talk to Harry out of Lorelei’s hearing.

“Harry, I’d never make a living if everyone was like you. This is like a work of art. But you probably figured out, I’m not here about your closet.”

“As you can tell by looking at me, I wasn’t born yesterday, Charlotte honey.”

“The thing is, I’m a bit worried about Lorelei. She doesn’t seem to be . . . entirely in the moment.”

“In the moment? No, Charlotte honey, Lorelei is never in the moment, as you call it.”

“Never?”

“Not in the thirty-two years we’ve been together, thirty of ’em married, too. Did you know that?”

“I did and it’s a pretty darn good run in this age.”

“And in the business that Lorelei’s in, it’s very unusual.”

“But I have known Lorelei for a long time, too, and this seems . . .” I hesitated. “More extreme than usual. She clearly doesn’t care at all about it. I don’t think she’s the least bit interested. If you want me to visit and talk to her, I’ll be happy to do that as a family friend. I’d prefer it to this pretext. We don’t need a business arrangement. Do you think there’s any point in doing the closet project? We can tear up that contract if you want. I have plenty of people waiting for my time, so you wouldn’t need to worry about that side of things. I could drop in some evenings to chat.”

“I know you’ve got a good head for business, Charlotte honey. And I know you’re kind and care about Lorelei. That’s why I want to stick to our agreement. It’s fair to you, and I’m hoping it will be good for her, too. Get her mind off things, you know what I mean. She loves clothes. She loves pocketbooks. She loves footwear. Those things make her smile. So maybe that will provide a break from sitting and brooding. I can’t ask for anything more of you. If the closets get rearranged, that will be a bonus. You have probably already figured out that Lorelei is more likely to value something you pay for. That’s the other reason it’s a good idea.”

My cell phone vibrated again in my pocket. I continued to ignore it and was regretting not turning it off.

It was hard to know what to think about Harry’s idea. On the one hand, I felt aware of the pain Lorelei and Harry must have been feeling. On the other, I’m an organizer, not a physician or a psychologist. I had a feeling that Lorelei needed one or both of those professions desperately. It would be a long time before she could turn her mind to her closets or anything else. If there was a third hand, it would be that I don’t want to take advantage of vulnerable clients. And I sure didn’t choose to spend my time keeping people’s minds occupied so they don’t seek the help they need.

Okay. End of soapbox.

Harry said, “Excuse me, Charlotte honey, I think we should hurry back and see if she’s all right.”

The phone vibrated yet again.

Who the hell was in such a hurry to speak to me?

I said, “Do you want to go ahead? I’d like to use the powder room.”

Harry hurried ahead of me, after apologizing and pointing to a door to the left off the corridor. Inside the lovely pale marble room, I checked the pesky cell phone.

Pepper.

Three voice messages.

And three texts.

That was even more than the number of vibrations had seemed to indicate. I checked all. The essence of both texts and phone messages was,
Have you seen Nick? He’s on duty, but he’s not responding to calls.

Typical Nick. So why the panic?

I sat on the lush upholstered bench and rubbed my temple. Oh well, not much choice but to respond with a text that summarized the news that I had indeed seen Nick at Hank’s and he had seemed morose but otherwise fine. I flushed the fine imported European toilet and ran the water quickly. I stepped out into the upstairs corridor and glanced both ways. I seemed to be alone, and something had been bothering me since I’d been in Harry’s room. I stepped into Lorelei’s palatial bedroom to verify. Sure enough. Unlike Harry, Lorelei did not have a single photo of her late daughter, Anabel. Now what was that about? Was Lorelei unable to bear seeing an image of her daughter? Had she packed away the photos?

I shivered in the warm June air, straightened my back, and headed downstairs.

Lorelei was still stretched out languidly on the pearl gray leather chaise staring at the view. She didn’t turn around as I arrived and cleared my throat. Harry must have stepped back into the kitchen. Not for more drinks, I hoped.

“Such a beautiful house,” I said. “I am looking forward to the tour of the closets.”

Harry hustled out of the kitchen holding a fresh champagne cocktail for Lorelei. I figured I’d be kissing the closets good-bye again that afternoon.

“I’m sorry, Charlotte. I don’t think that Lorelei will be up to anything today.”

I barely managed not to say, “because she’s had a snootful.”

He said, “It goes without saying that we will pay you for your time this afternoon, including travel.”

I said, “I hope that Lorelei will feel well enough to try tomorrow.”

Harry said wistfully, “We take it day by day.”

“I’m sure. Do you mind if I take a look at these closets?” I almost said “alleged closets.” I added, “It will make it easier for me to get an idea of what we want to accomplish.”

If indeed we wanted to accomplish anything.

Lorelei turned her head and adjusted her facial expression, an infinitesimal frown, but enough to convey that did not suit her in the least.

“Of course, it can always wait.” Although, I myself could hardly wait to get away from this strange house with its tragic undercurrents and the beautiful damaged woman at the cold heart of it.

Harry walked me to the door. In the amazing domed entrance, he opened a mirrored door and pointed to the contents of the front entrance closet. It was an unremarkable collection of jackets and coats, capes, shawls and wraps, with boots and walking shoes neatly arrayed. Lorelei’s side was jammed. Harry’s was perfect.

“Harry, I need to say this: There’s no point in my coming if Lorelei is going to have a couple of cocktails and put the brakes on every time. And there’s less point in me coming when she can’t get out of bed.”

“Charlotte honey, I told you we’d pay you anyway.”

“It’s not about money, Harry. I’m not helping her in the least. And I’d like to. So how about you let me know when I can catch her awake and not yet anesthetized and we can see if I can do something useful. Otherwise, it’s not going to work out.”

It was hard for me to meet Harry’s eyes. And for the first time since I’d visited them, I noticed how much he’d aged in the past year or so. He moved more slowly, favoring his left leg. His handsome face was losing the crisp edges, and even his usual good spirits seemed forced. I supposed in the troubling atmosphere of their home, this was the last thing I’d notice. Lorelei seemed almost to be made of glass like the house, in danger of shattering at a wrong word or look. She needed to heal, not that she would ever get over Anabel’s death.

“All right,” he said. “I’ll try. How about eleven o’clock tomorrow? If she won’t take you, I will. After that, we’ll have to play it by ear.”

“I’ll be here. We’ll hope for the best. By the way, I was wondering, did you and Lorelei stay in touch with Anabel’s friend from Hope for Youth at Risk?”

“You mean Gwen? Now, I feel real guilty about that. They were congenial colleagues rather than friends. We should have stayed in touch with Gwen. She was so good to Anabel. Anabel always respected her. I’ll see if Lorelei is up to having her over for brunch next week. And if not”—he glanced toward the other end of the house—“then I can take her to lunch. I’m sure they have some project we can help out with in some small way.”

“No, I meant Dimitri.”