Missing Pieces (39 page)

“It means at least five years of school.”

“Do I have anything better to do?”

“No, I guess not.”

“What’s your problem?” she asked. “You’re the one
who suggested it, who made it sound like such a great idea.”

“It
is
a great idea.”

“I thought you’d be thrilled.”

“I am. It’s just that …”

“You’re still mad at me because of Sara.”

“You don’t give people a lot of time to catch their breath.”

“Part of my charm.” Jo Lynn looked toward our mother. “So, think she’ll spring for it?”

I reached into the cupboard, grabbed two mugs, filled them with freshly brewed, steaming-hot coffee. “Spring for what?”

“The tuition.”

I handed Jo Lynn her mug, sipped gingerly from my own, the steam searing my eyelashes shut.

“What’s the matter? You don’t think she’ll give me the money?”

I opened my eyes. “I’m not sure she has the money to give.”

Jo Lynn jumped to her feet, hot coffee from her mug spilling over the back of her hand. She didn’t seem to notice. “What are you talking about? Of course she has money.”

“Most of what she had is gone,” I tried to explain. “Her medical expenses will probably eat up the rest.”

“Goddamn her anyway. She couldn’t just die?”

“Jo Lynn!”

She was pacing now, turning in small circles between the table and the kitchen counter. “Oh, spare me your righteous indignation. You can’t tell me you haven’t thought the same thing.”

I was about to protest, but didn’t. The truth was that there had been times over the last number of weeks when I thought death might have been kinder, for all of us.

“What about you and Larry?”

“What?”

“You said you’d loan me the money, that I could pay you back when I was
raking in the dough.
Didn’t you mean it?”

I hesitated.

She pounced. “You didn’t mean it, did you? It was just one of those things you say to make you feel good about yourself, but you have no intention of actually doing.”

“That’s not true.”

“Will you loan me the money or won’t you?”

“Hold on a second,” I said, trying to slow things down. “Aren’t we moving a little fast here? What’s the urgency?”

“Why wait? I want to get the ball rolling.”

“This is very implusive,” I told her. “Are you sure you’ve thought it all through?”

“I don’t see what the big deal is. It was your suggestion that I go to law school. I’m taking you up on it. I thought you’d be thrilled. I’m finally going to do something with my life. I’m finally going to amount to something. Or is that the problem? Are you so used to being the omnipotent older sister that you don’t really want me to succeed?”

I downed the contents of my mug, felt my throat sting. When had this conversation become about me? “Look,” I began. “You’ve caught me off guard, and this probably isn’t the best time to be asking for favors in any case. Leave it with me for a few days. I’ll discuss it with Larry when I think the time is right.”

“Who are you kidding? The time will never be right.” In the next second, Jo Lynn was on her way to the front door. “I don’t understand,” she said, waving her hands in frustration. “I mean, what is it you want from me?”

I stood there helplessly as the door slammed in my face.

I
’m thinking of going to South Carolina next week,” Larry said, as we lay side by side on our backs in bed, hands folded across our stomachs, not touching, staring at the ceiling fan whirring gently overhead.

“To see your mother?”

“That, and to play golf. My brother called, invited me up for a few days. Invited us, actually.”

“I can’t go,” I said quickly.

“I told him I didn’t think you’d be able to make it.”

“It’s a bad time,” I said. “There’s just too much going on.”

“That’s what I told him.”

I heard the disappointment in his voice, ignored it. “But you can go. You haven’t seen your family in a while. I’m sure your mother would be thrilled.”

“I think I will go,” he said, after a pause.

“I think it would be good,” I said. “Have you given any thought to Jo Lynn’s request?”

“Nope.”

“Are you going to?”

“Nope.”

“You don’t think you’re being just a tad shortsighted?”

“Nope.”

I took a deep breath, released it slowly, louder than was necessary.

“Look, Kate. After the stunt she pulled, I’m not prepared to give your sister the time of day, let alone the kind of money she’s talking about.”

“It’s not a gift. It’s a loan.”

“Sure. Like she’s actually going to go through with five years of college. Like I’m actually going to see the money again.”

“I know we’d be taking a big chance,” I agreed, “and, at first, I thought it was ridiculous too, but then I thought about it some more, and I thought that maybe it’s not so ridiculous, that maybe this time she might actually pull it off, and I
am
the one who suggested it, who gave her the idea in the first place, who gave it the big buildup, convinced her she could do it.”

“That doesn’t make you responsible, Kate,” Larry said. “You are not your sister’s keeper.”

“I just think it might be her last chance.”

“If she really wants to go to law school, let her get a job and pay for it herself. There are lots of people out there putting themselves through college.”

“I know, but …”

“Look, Kate, I know she’s your sister, and that you’d like to help her out, and I won’t stop you. I mean, if you have the money and you want to give it to her, there’s nothing I can do, but don’t ask me to contribute. I can’t, and I won’t.”

“Fine,” I said. But it wasn’t.

“You know what amazes me?”

Larry’s question was rhetorical. It didn’t require an answer.

“What amazes me is how easily you let yourself get sucked in. She does it to you every time. One minute,
you’re so mad at her, you never want to see her again; the next minute, you’re ready to give her the moon.”

“She’s my sister.”

“She’s a flake. She always has been. The difference is that now she’s a
dangerous
flake.”

“Dangerous?”

“Yes, dangerous. Women who flirt with serial killers are misguided; women who marry them are crazy; women who involve their teenage nieces in their craziness are dangerous.”

“I just thought if there was anything I could do to help her …”

“There isn’t. You can’t.” He sat up, leaned on one elbow toward me. “Kate, you know as well as I do that you can never pull people like Jo Lynn up. They can only drag you down.”

He leaned over to kiss me. I turned my head away, flipped over onto my side, faced the window.

“Well, in another week, I’ll be out of your hair,” he said sadly, flopping back down. “You’ll have a few days on your own to decide what you want to do.”

He didn’t say about what. He didn’t have to. We both understood what he meant.

The next day, I picked up the phone and called Robert, told him of Larry’s plans. We agreed to meet the following Saturday. At the Breakers, we concurred. A room with an ocean view.

The letter arrived within minutes of Larry leaving for the airport. I stared at it for several seconds without opening it, puzzled by the unfamiliar handwriting, the lack of a return address. I carried it into the kitchen, cutting my finger on the envelope as I carelessly ripped it open, watched as a tiny drop of blood stained the page.

Well, I guess it’s official now, dear Katie,
the letter began.
We’re family.

My eyes shot to the bottom of the plain white piece of paper, my hands shaking, my heart pounding.
Love, Colin
was scribbled with obscene clarity across the bottom of the page.

“No!” I cried, eyes returning in growing horror to the main paragraph.

Well, I guess it’s official now. We’re family,
I read again, forcing myself to continue.
Kissing cousins, you might say. I got to admit I like the sound of that. Anyway, I just wanted you to know how sorry I was that you couldn’t make the wedding, but wanted to let you know that Sara did you real proud. That older girl of yours is really something. Why, she’s as sweet as the first strawberry in spring.

My eyes filled with angry tears. I wiped them away, continued reading.

I
know I’m not one of your favorite people, Katie girl, but you ‘re sure one of mine. One day, I hope to prove that to you. In the meantime, just know I’m thinking about you. Love, Colin

“No, no, no, no!” I shouted with increasing ferocity, ripping the letter into as many pieces as my shaking fingers could manage, watching the tiny scraps of paper fall to the tile floor, like flakes of confetti, realizing only too late what I’d done, immediately down on my hands and knees, trying to gather the pieces together, giving up moments later in disgust. “Great,” I moaned. “Just great. That was really smart.” I took a deep breath. Talk about destroying the evidence. How could I call the police now? Instead, I called my sister.

“You gave him our address?” I declaimed as soon as I heard her voice.

“He said he wanted to try one more time to make amends,” Jo Lynn explained.

I told her what the letter said.

“I think that’s so sweet,” she said. “What’s the matter with you, Kate? He’s trying so hard. Can’t you give him a chance?”

I hung up the phone, more resigned than surprised. She called right back.

“Have you decided whether or not you’re going to lend me the money for law school?” she asked, as I shook my head in disbelief.

“I haven’t talked to Larry yet,” I lied.

“Why not?”

Were we actually having this conversation? “He had to go out of town for a few days. He’ll be back Monday. I’ll talk to him then.”

“Monday’s too late.”

“Too late? What are you talking about?”

This time, she was the one to hang up.

“Figures,” I said out loud, although nothing did. I checked my watch, realizing that if I didn’t leave for work now, I’d be late for Mrs. Black, a new client I’d scheduled for one o’clock. I’d canceled my morning appointments so that I could drive Larry to the airport, but he’d said there was no need, he’d already arranged for a limo. I headed for the front door, the set of golf clubs I’d bought him for Christmas leaning against the wall of the foyer, like a silent rebuke. He’d taken his old set with him to Carolina. “I’ll have better luck with these,” he’d said, without kissing me goodbye.

Could I blame him? I’d been, dreadful to him for months, closing myself off, freezing him out.

“You should have gone with him,” I told myself, unlocking my office door, trying to block out unwanted images of Colin Friendly by imagining how Mrs. Black
might look, what her problem would be. So many problems, I thought. So few solutions.

Moments later, I heard the door to my outer office open and close. I rose to my feet, went out to meet Mrs. Black.

She was standing in the middle of the waiting room, and it took a moment for my brain to register who she was, despite the fact that I recognized her immediately. You know how it is when you meet someone in one set of circumstances, and don’t expect to see them in another. Such was the case with the woman who stood before me now, smiling at me from behind layers of blue eye shadow, her too black hair falling into a stiff flip at her shoulders. She was wearing a peach-colored suit with matching peach-colored stockings and pumps. The effect was somewhat startling, like an overripe piece of fruit. “Hello, Kate,” she said.

“Brandi,” I acknowledged, watching the encounter from somewhere inside my head, struggling to keep my voice its normal timbre. What on earth was she doing here? “How are you?”

“Not so great.”

“Oh—I’m sorry to hear that.” Actually, I was sorry to hear anything. Brandi Crowe was the last person I wanted to see. Wasn’t I planning to sleep with her husband the day after tomorrow?

She smiled, clasped her hands together nervously, then dropped them to her sides. What did she want? Had Robert told her of our plans? Had a reservation clerk from the Breakers phoned her, tipped her off?

“Is there a reason you’re here?” I asked reluctantly.

“I need to talk to you.”

“To me?”

“Professionally,” she said.

“I’m so sorry,” I said quickly. “I’m completely booked this afternoon.” Had I ever felt so grateful to be so busy?

“I have an appointment.”

“You do?” I scanned my memory for mention of her name. Surely, I wasn’t so out of it that I wouldn’t have noticed the name of my prospective lover’s wife in my appointment calendar.

“Mrs. Black,” she said, and smiled apologetically. “Not very original, I’m afraid.”

Of course. My new client. “Good enough to fool me,” I heard myself say.

“I was afraid you wouldn’t see me if I gave you my real name. And I didn’t want Robert to know I was coming.”

I held my breath.

“I apologize for the charade.”

“No need.” The words slid out as I was forced to exhale. I ushered her inside my inner office, trying to collect the thoughts that were madly scrambling around inside my brain, realizing that she must have called my office weeks ago for this appointment, long before I’d arranged my upcoming Saturday tryst with her husband. There was no way she could know anything about our plans for the weekend. I almost laughed with relief. “Have a seat.”

She arranged herself neatly in one of the chairs across from my own, crossed, then uncrossed her peach-tinted legs. “I feel a little self-conscious.”

“Are you sure I’m the person you should be seeing?”

“Yes,” she said quickly. “You strike me as a good listener. And Robert speaks very highly of you.”

Silently, I debated the ethics of counseling my lover’s wife. Of course, he wasn’t my lover yet, nor had I decided to take his wife on as a client. Brandi’s visit would hopefully prove to be only a one-time thing. “It’s just that you might feel more comfortable talking to someone you don’t know,” I ventured, understanding it was I who would feel more comfortable.

“No, really, I’m sure I’ll be quite comfortable talking to you.”