Miz Scarlet and the Bewildered Bridegroom (21 page)

“Wow.” Edna stood in
the middle of the room, her gaze fixed on the scene before her. I
could tell from her expression that she was more than a little
baffled. “This is a real library.”

“Of course it is. We
Wilsons love books.”

“But you work all the
time. When do you have time to read?”

“I make time,” I
smiled. “To me, reading is like breathing. I can’t live without
it.”

“Well....” There it was
-- the look of panic I’d seen before on the face of many an
out-of-shape reader. Truth be told, it’s just a matter of taking a
book off the shelf and opening it up to the title page. If you get
through the first chapter and start the second, chances are good
you’ll go all the way to the very end.

“Let’s start here,” I
suggested, steering her over to the paperbacks with the colorful
covers.
Keep it light, Miz
Scarlet. Nothing too scary or emotionally
overwhelming...unless....

My fingers crawled
along the spines in the D section and stopped on
The Allure of
Bougainvillea
, Serena Duvall’s
romantic romp. It was the perfect choice -- two mature adults
stranded overnight on a tiny island after their excursion group
returned to the cruise ship without them. Not only did the
raven-haired Felicity and Donovan with the smoldering eyes have to
evade modern day pirates who were using the island to hide their
stolen booty, the couple also had to overcome their dislike of each
other in order to survive. If Edna wasn’t inspired by the dramatic
ending, there was no hope for her future with Big
Larry.

“What do you think
about this one?” I asked, slipping the paperback into those
reluctant hands. She hemmed and hawed over
The Allure of Bougainvillea
like a dieter asked to break a year-long ban
on chocolate. I noted the look of hunger in those dark eyes. Closet
romantics are the most vulnerable.

Maybe that was not the
right book, I decided. “Perhaps you’d prefer something
else.”

“I don’t know....Are
you sure there isn’t something I can do to help you? I could polish
silver or make some beds,” she offered.

I admit it. I groaned
out loud, unable to hold back my exasperation with the woman. Was
it really that hard for her to relax?

“Shall I remind you
that you’re here to help us catch some bad guys, Edna? If you go
and sit in the garden with a glass of ice tea, you’ll actually be
helping us.”

“I don’t know.” She
shook her head, still resistant to the idea of getting lost in a
story.

“Tell you what. Why
don’t you go out there for just half an hour? Set your watch. If
you’re really miserable after thirty minutes, come and find me;
I’ll figure out what else you can do to help us. But while you’re
out there, keep an eye peeled for snoopers. Kenny thinks someone in
the neighborhood is spying on us.”

“So I am actually
working while I’m reading out there?”

“Indeed.”

Did the woman actually
have to believe she was working in order to do something that
didn’t involve a mop and Murphy’s oil soap? I tried to imagine what
her “Bucket list” would entail:
Polish the Taj Mahal. Clean the Ganges River. Sweep the Grand
Canyon. Dust Mount Rushmore. Vacuum Mount Saint Helens.
I felt like taking her by the shoulders and
shaking some sense into that noggin of hers. Was this the reason
she and the Googins girls came up with the crazy notion of opening
a wedding venue -- Edna needed an excuse to dupe Big Larry into her
twisted scheme?

“Okay. I guess I can
stand it for half an hour.”

I watched Edna through
the kitchen window. She chose a bench under the wisteria-cover
trellis and sat there, her ankles crossed, gazing around. I knew
she was reluctant to open up the book. From time to time, I glanced
out at the sight of the middle-aged housekeeper. Just short of half
an hour, I resigned myself to the idea that my exercise in
encouraging her to read was probably futile. With a shrug, I poured
her a glass of ice tea, slipped a slice of lemon onto the lip of
the glass, and walked out the back door.

Making my way down the
path, I came upon her. Her eyes were glued to the page and barely
fluttered when I cleared my throat.

“I thought you might
enjoy a cold drink, Edna.”

“Mmm...thanks.” She
flipped the page, her eyes following the printed
words.

“I’ll just leave it
here.” I set it down on the table and quietly left her.
So far, so good.

She was still there
when Lacey returned from her eye appointment. In fact, Edna stayed
out there until my mother and Thaddeus returned from their long,
leisurely lunch just after four; she glanced up as the doctor
parked his car and watched him help Laurel out of the passenger
side and into her wheelchair. As the couple headed toward the front
door of the inn, Edna slipped a white piece of paper between the
pages and closed the paperback. She remained there, her face calm,
placid. I wondered what went through her mind, whether she had
decided what she might do to land Big Larry. It wasn’t as if she
was still a young woman afforded the luxury of
fickleness.

Ever since they had
been briefly reunited at Christmastime, Edna and her ex-husband had
danced around the idea of restarting their relationship. There was
just one problem -- with so much bitter history between them,
neither one was willing to concede to the other. Every conversation
began pleasantly enough, but it soon grew rancorous. I had never
seen two people with such a knack for getting under each other’s
skin. Caught in the middle was poor Larry, the parental referee.
What would it take to get the former spouses to find middle ground?
Maybe what they really needed was to be left on an island to fend
for themselves, like the hapless Felicity and Donovan
of
The Allure of
Bougainvillea
fame. I was mighty
tempted to help with that plan, but unfortunately, I had no access
to a deserted island or a bunch of marauding pirates. With a shrug,
I forced myself to leave my observation post at the kitchen window
and turn my attention back to the work at hand.

Dinner was a simple
affair; I served crumb-topped cod, twice-baked potatoes, Grandma
Googins’ scalloped tomatoes, and a tossed salad. For dessert, I
served raspberry trifle.

Thaddeus surprised me.
For a man who had just found out his cancer had returned, he was in
remarkably good spirits. He helped himself to hearty portions and
even requested a second serving of trifle.

“Anyone interested in a
game of Scrabble this evening?” he wanted to know.

“Count me in,” said
Ruth, dabbing at her mouth with her cotton napkin.

“What about you,
Laurel?” He turned to my mother.

“Oh, that goes without
saying,” she smiled, her eyes softening. “Scrabble’s my
game.”

“I’ll watch,” Lacey
announced cheerfully, glancing at her cousin. Ever since Thaddeus
had taken an interest in Laurel, Lacey had made a point of hanging
back and letting my mother take center stage. Did they have a
written “no compete” agreement tucked away in a drawer somewhere or
was it just an unspoken rule between them, that no man would ever
break up the team?

Chapter Sixteen --

As we were having
dessert, Bur wandered in from the kitchen, carrying a plate of fish
and vegetables. He pulled up a chair and joined us as we lingered
over coffee.

“So, what have I
missed?” he wanted to know. He poured himself some Chenin
Blanc.

“Thaddeus will be
starting chemo soon,” my mother announced. I suddenly understood
why the doctor was eating like there was no tomorrow. He was
bulking up in anticipation of the rigors of his
treatment.

“Oh,” I said lamely,
stalling for time as my brain tried to find the right thing to say
about cancer treatment. Do you congratulate a patient or
commiserate when you know the course of powerful medicine is likely
to knock the stuffing out of a person? “How long will it
take?”

“The doctor wants to
give me a cocktail mix of a couple of different drugs. I’m getting
infusions once a week for six weeks this time
around.”

“Are there a lot of
side effects?” Lacey wanted to know.

“Some. One of the drugs
is pretty powerful, so it should hit me when I’m back in Maine and
by the time I come back for the next round of chemo, I should be
feeling somewhat better.”

“Gee, that’s rough,” my
brother acknowledged. “Kind of puts a crimp in your
summer.”

“Well, unfortunately
the alternative isn’t pretty,” the doctor sighed. “Besides, my
oncologist is optimistic that I have a good chance of remission
once I get past the treatment.”

“So, does that mean
it’s worth the misery,” Bur nodded, “even though it will be rough
for a while?”

“That’s it in a
nutshell.”

“Well, if you need
anything, please let us know.” I rose with the coffee carafe and
topped off the cups, moving around the table.

“As a matter of fact,
there is something you could do for me. I’d like to reserve a room
for Thursday nights while I’m being treated. I’m scheduled to get
my IV on Friday mornings at nine.”

“Not a problem,” I
assured him with a smile. “I’m glad you’ll be with
us.”

“I am too. The subject
came up during our lunch and, after talking it over with a very
good listener,” Dr. Van Zandt looked over at my mother, “I called
the cancer center to get the ball rolling on my treatment. It
starts in two weeks.”

“Laurel’s always been
my sounding board,” Lacey said, “and she’s never steered me
wrong.”

“You need that when you
have an important decision to make,” Ruth agreed. “Sometimes the
other person catches something you missed.”

“And sometimes it’s
nice just to know that people understand what you’re going
through,” Edna added. “It’s hard when you get older and you’re on
your own.”

“Amen to that,” Lacey
replied. The others all nodded knowingly. Four single women and a
man, all of a certain age, all in the same boat, in need of
companionship and support. Maybe that was the beauty of the Four
Acorns Inn. Unlike a big hotel, the intimacy of our small
establishment encouraged guests to mingle over meals and socialize
in the evenings.

“Just let me know if
you have any special food requirements, Dr. Van Zandt. I’m happy to
make you whatever you need. I’ve been known to make a power shake
or two. And I make killer chicken soup and grilled
cheese.”

“She does,” my mother
smiled. “There’s nothing better on a dreary day. It’s comfort food
that warms the cockles of your heart. And her macaroni and cheese
is out of this world!”

“Oh, what about her
mushroom strata?” the other Googins girl asked. “It just melts in
your mouth!”

I could tell the
cousins were trying to sell the doctor on the wisdom of staying at
the Four Acorns Inn while he was being treated at the cancer center
every week. We’d had other cancer patients stay with us. Thanks to
a nutritionist, I learned to make soft, easy-to-chew,
easy-to-digest foods for folks going through treatment. When
fatigue and lack of appetite set in, the best thing I could do was
to make sure they got as many calories as they could with as little
effort as possible. It was all about keeping the pounds
on.

Bur joined Ruth,
Thaddeus and my mother for Scrabble in the living room. Edna and
Lacey opted to watch TV instead. I got busy with the washing-up,
loading the dishwasher and scrubbing pots and pans.

I was up to my elbows
in suds when Jenny and Shark Boy popped into the kitchen on their
return from their day at the beach. He deposited the cooler on the
counter, thanking me with a few mumbled words.

“Appreciate
it.”

“I’m glad. How was it?
Did you two get to surf?”

“Yeah.”

“It was awesome, Miz
Scarlet!” Jenny gushed. I found her enthusiasm contagious. “I love
that beach -- all that beautiful white sand and blue
water!”

I smiled, thinking of
the summers I drove to Misquamicut with my friends for all-day body
surfing and picnics. Sometimes we’d have ten or twelve in the group
and three or four cars in our caravan; we’d play musical cars,
switching riders at red lights the moment someone yelled, “Chinese
fire drill!” When we got to the beach, we’d stake out our section
of sand with a patchwork quilt of blankets that seemed to go on
forever. I always found myself lingering as the last of the
afternoon sun began to slip away, reluctant to leave. Those were
good times, halcyon days.