Love You to Death (17 page)

“And family who loves you,” Olivia finished for me. She nuzzled Oscar’s head.

“And family who loves me,” I repeated, trying not to sound numb. “Can I hold Oscar?”

I expected her to say, “Until Oliver comes downstairs,” but she handed Oscar to me and said quite loudly, “Your auntie Abby loves you so much, Oscar Woscar!”

I laughed. “Oscar Woscar? You didn’t just say that.”

“You’ll come up with the most sickening little rhymes when you have a baby,” she said. “Trust me.”

I want one of you,
I said silently to Oscar. He or she would have Ben’s amazing dark eyes and eyelashes. His strong nose. His gorgeous lips. His thick, shiny dark hair…

“Olivia, will you call Oliver down from the television?” Veronica asked. “It’s time to sit down.”

“Basketball,” Olivia said, rolling her eyes.

“Is everything okay between you and Oliver?” I asked. “A baby must be a huge adjustment for a married couple.”

“Marriage is a huge adjustment,” she said. “A baby is hard work, but heaven-sent. Things are fine. I just have to keep after him for what I want. What I need. Like him to take my word for it that my sister is innocent.”

That felt good. I squeezed her hand. “Thanks, Olivia. That means a lot to me.”

She squeezed back and headed upstairs, and I went into the living room with Oscar.

Ben stood and oohed and aahed in guy fashion over Oscar, running a finger along his tiny blue cap. “Is it okay that I’m touching him? I know you’re not supposed to touch a newborn.”

“You only touched his hat,” I said. “It’s okay.”

“He’s beautiful,” Ben said, unable to take his eyes off Oscar.

“You want kids someday, don’t you?” I asked.

“Sure,” he said.

My heart surged, and I envisioned our dark-haired, dark-eyed baby. I had no doubt I’d pass the long evenings coming up with potential baby names for our imaginary future child.

I burst into a smile as it occurred to me that I’d be adding another
O
into the
O
-crowded family. An Orr.

Orlando Orr. Othello Orr. Otis Orr.

A bell jangled. “Dinner!” Veronica called.

Olivia came down, Oliver trailing behind her. He eyed me, then stared at Oscar in my arms.

“Let’s put Oscar in his infant seat,” Oliver said, practically ripping the baby out of my arms.

Again, I missed his warm little body, so light. Oliver settled Oscar in his seat on top of the sidebar, shook Ben’s hand and then we sat down. Platters and bowls of scrumptious food were passed around. Ben liked good old American fried chicken and corn and potatoes, I saw. And potato salad and green beans.

“Before we dig in,” Veronica said. “I just wanted to say a happy birthday to George.” She looked up toward the ceiling. “George, I know you’re listening and watching. Happy birthday. We love you.”

“Happy birthday, Daddy,” Opal said. “I wish you could be at my wedding.”

Olivia had had a hard time getting married without our dad. He’d died the year before, and there’d been no one to walk her down the aisle. There were uncles, but no one close enough. In the end, Veronica had walked her down.

“George, listen,” Veronica said. “I know you’re worried about Abby. But she’s in Detective Orr’s good hands, so what will be will be. Please, don’t worry yourself sick.” She turned to Ben. “The girls’ father was always such a worrier.”

In Detective Orr’s good hands.
I glanced at Ben. What did
that
mean?

“Well, if this all blows over,” Oliver said, “let’s just hope that Abby’s taste in boyfriends improves.”

“It’s called
dating,
Oliver,” Olivia said, adding another chicken wing to her plate. “I dated my share of toads, too.”

Oliver was her prince? I almost laughed.

Oliver was staring at me. He threw his bread stick down on his plate, his expression one of disgust—his usual expression, actually. “Did you ever stop to think that maybe it’s not them? That it
is
you?”

“Oliver!” Olivia snapped.

“No, no, Livvy,” Veronica said. “I think Abby needs to hear this. I think it’s time she faced the truth.”

“What truth?” I asked, gritting my teeth.

“That you can’t hang on to what doesn’t exist, dear,” Veronica said. “It’s just like when you were a little girl and you wanted your daddy, but your daddy had a new family. You just couldn’t accept it.”

I glanced at Ben to see if his expression registered the “huh?” as mine must. “I’m not following your point, Veronica,” I said.

“Your father left you and your mother for a new family,” she continued. “And you were unable to deal with it. You’ve been perpetuating that scenario over and over again with each boyfriend, hoping one would stay. But they don’t. They move on, too. You need to accept that relationships end.”

Where the hell was this mumbo-jumbo coming from?

“So my relationship with my father should have ended before my first birthday?” I said.

“Well, no, of course not,” Veronica said. “But you did need to accept that the relationship had changed. That your father had moved on.”

“So how exactly did my relationship to my father change?” I asked. “He wasn’t my father anymore?”

“Well, he was still your father,” she said. “But he was now two other girls’ father, and he lived with them and their mother, so of course things were going to be different for you.”

For the first time in twenty-eight years I realized that it was Veronica who had the problem. I wasn’t quite sure exactly what it was; perhaps she was simply pissed off that her husband, the father of her children, had another child out there. Perhaps this whole
your relationship had changed
crap was her own wishful thinking.

“You know what’s interesting, Veronica?” I said. “That my dad worked so hard to make sure our relationship didn’t change. The invitations to every family function, party, event. Your anniversary dinner, even! He went out of his way to include me. I guess you wished otherwise.”

Her face turned red. “I just think,” she said, “that you have a tendency to cling. Yes, that’s the right word.
Cling.
I think you clung to your boyfriends when the relationships were going nowhere, and when they broke up with you, you eventually snapped. Just like you’re clinging to your relationship with your half sisters now that your father is gone.”

Everyone was staring at me. I stared back, waiting for someone to say something, tell her off. Olivia seemed to be in shock. Opal was admiring her diamond ring. And Ben had his usual unreadable expression on.

“Is that what I’m doing?” I asked Olivia and Opal, gazing from one to the other. “The pact I asked us to make about getting together at least once a month. Is that clinging? Our dad is gone, so there’s no need for me to be in your lives anymore? Or are we family? Which is it? This would be a good time for me to know.”

I caught Oliver nudging Olivia in the ribs.

“Of course we’re family,” she said, looking as if she wanted to explode. “We’re sisters.”

I stood up. “You’re saying this, at Oliver’s nudging, because he’s afraid I’ll pull out a gun and shoot you or him. Is that right?”

“Yeah, that’s right,” Oliver said. “You’re a suspect in the murder of your ex-boyfriend, for God’s sake. Two of your other boyfriends were almost killed. We have reason to be worried.”

Was Olivia placating me to my face but agreeing with everyone else behind my back? “Olivia, do you think I killed Ted?”

She glanced at her husband, at her mother, then at me. “Not in a million years,” she said.

Opal guffawed. “If you killed Ted, I’ll eat Francesca.”

Francesca was her miniature dog. Everyone stared at her.

“Well, clearly I don’t think she did,” Opal added.

“I’m just being cautious,” Veronica said. “I’m thinking of my children and my grandchild.”

If I ever did have a child, would Veronica be his or her stepgrandma? Or just plain Veronica? The step world got complicated.

“And I’m thinking of
my
wife and child. My child’s family,” Oliver said.

Too bad neither Oliver or Veronica was likely to be the killer. I could see Veronica and Oliver locked up in a jail cell, wearing orange jumpsuits. But based on Ben’s reasoning, they’d actually have to care about me in order to kill for me.

“Veronica, do you remember what Olivia said at the bridesmaid-dress fitting?” I asked. “She said that my father would never in a million years believe I could have killed anyone. I’d think that would be good enough for you.”

“Your father was a kindhearted romantic,” she said.

“Like Abby,” Ben said.

Now everyone stared at him.

“Detective Orr, why don’t you give us your professional opinion,” Oliver said. “You must know if Abby is guilty or not.”

What I would give for him to stand up and say,
“There is no way in hell that Abby Foote killed anyone, tried to kill anyone or even thought of killing someone.”
But I knew exactly what would come out of his mouth.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t discuss an ongoing investigation,” he said as expected. Sometimes predictability was comforting.

“I’d like to leave,” I said, standing up.

“That’s probably best,” Oliver said.

Olivia shook her head, but didn’t say anything. Opal and Jackson were deep in conversation. And Veronica was dabbing at her lipstick with her napkin.

“Thank you for the delicious dinner, Veronica,” Ben said.

“My pleasure. And thank you for enabling Abby to join in on her father’s special day, Detective Orr.”

Veronica was probably nuts. I had to keep that in mind.

I kissed Olivia and Opal goodbye, then gave Oscar a kiss on his forehead, Oliver hovering. Finally Ben and I were out the door.

I stopped on the porch and stared up at the twinkling stars. If my father was up there, listening and watching, I hoped he wasn’t upset about what had just happened.
I’m okay, Dad,
I said.
Strange as it sounds. I’ve got Ben looking out for me. I’m okay.

Ben opened the passenger door of his car for me. “That was tough,” he said. “I wasn’t expecting any of that.”

“At least I know what she thinks of me,” I said as I got in. “Not that I was disillusioned. Were you taking notes under the table?”

He squeezed my hand. “Nope. Just listening. Carefully.”

“So what did you learn about my dear family?”

“Well, for starters, I think your stepmother’s prickliness—that might be a good word for it—has a lot to do with insecurity,” he said as he pulled out of the driveway.

“Insecurity?” I asked. “What does Veronica have to be insecure about? She’s so attractive, her daughters love her and her husband worshipped her. She has a ton of money, a beautiful house—”

“I’m talking about the intangibles,” Ben said. “Your father left his wife and newborn baby for another woman he got pregnant. Every day of your father and Veronica’s marriage, she must have been waiting for him to leave her, as well.”

I glanced at him. “The old karmic justice. I never looked at it that way.”

“Maybe to her, you were always a reminder of what her husband could do,” he said. “Leave.”

Tears pricked the backs of my eyes and I blinked them back. “He never left her. That actually gave me a strange faith in men, in relationships. He left my mother and me, but he was loyal to Veronica for over twenty-seven years. Sometimes a relationship just isn’t right for one of the people. So they leave.”

He glanced at me. “That’s a really good attitude, Abby. It took me a long time to realize that what you just said is true. It’s why I’m able to talk to my mother at all now. She turned her back on me and my dad when we were grieving as hard as she was. But apparently it was what everything inside her
had
to do. I could let her be who she needed to be, or I could hate her guts. I chose to let her be.”

I took a deep breath. “I guess that’s how I handled my dad, too.”

“I’ll bet your sisters were also worried, subconsciously maybe, about your dad. If he’d up and leave them the way he left you.”

“And then he up and left us all,” I said.

“You know, it might take a while longer for you all to find your way together as a family. But it looks like you’re trying. You’re physically present, even if Veronica’s a porcupine. If Olivia bows to her husband a little too much. If Opal is overly focused on her wedding. You all showed up tonight to celebrate your dad’s birthday. That’s something. It’s a lot, actually.”

I wanted to hug him so badly, but aside from the fact that he was driving, I didn’t think I could just f ling myself into his arms.

“Thanks, Ben. You’ve made me feel a lot better about everything. I was a shaky mess when we left, and now I feel okay again.”

“Good.”

“And I know my sisters are behind me,” I said. “Even if they’re under Veronica’s and Oliver’s thumbs. And I know my friends are behind me, too. That’s why when you ask me to suggest that one of them would actually kill another human being, harm another human being, even if to avenge my broken heart, I can’t.”

He nodded. “You’ve got good people in your life, Abby.”

“Except you think one of them is a killer.”

“Or you,” he said.

Nuh-uh,
I thought.
You think I’m guilty about as much as Olivia and Opal do. I know it in my bones. In my heart.

I placed my hand on his, which was resting on his thigh. “Thank you for being there tonight, Ben. I can’t tell you how much your support means to me.”

He glanced at me—no smile, no comment, no “You’re welcome.” I moved my hand back to my own thigh.

Was I completely nuts? Did he support me? Or was he doing his job—chaperoning me, as my stepmother had requested? Listening, slyly questioning, gathering evidence, witnesses. He hadn’t been there tonight as my friend—or my boyfriend, for heaven’s sake.

Why did I keep forgetting that?