Tea and Primroses (15 page)

“I know.” He put the read pages on the end table and then wrapped his hands around her bare feet, looking down at them and speaking quietly. “How the hell did we never know about Vermont? And about Patrick Waters?”

 She shook her head, fighting the urge to close her eyes and give in to the pleasure of Declan’s touch on her bare skin. “He told me today he’s loved her most of his life. Do you think they were lovers?”

“It seems headed that way.”

“But she loved my father. He was her one big love. At least that’s what I assumed she meant all these years.”

The doorbell interrupted them. “That’ll be them.” Sutton swung her feet off Declan’s lap.

Peter and Jack stood at the door. Jack hugged her quickly and without any body parts touching except for their arms. “I’m sorry I didn’t see you earlier at the memorial. It was a crazy amount of people and I don’t do well in crowds.” He was dressed in short sleeves.

She averted her eyes from the angry scars on his wrists, exposed for all to see. “Don’t worry. I feel the same way. So did my mother.”

“I remember,” said Jack, pushing his glasses farther up his nose. “She was really good to me when I came home, you know, after everything. It meant a lot to me.”

“I’m glad.”

“Sutton, I know how you feel right now. Grief’s worse when you know they were murdered. I’m sorry.”

“Jack, thank you. I’m sorry too.”

They hugged again, only this time he held her tightly against his chest for a brief moment. He looked well, thought Sutton. He’d gained weight since she saw him last, like maybe he was working out. Jack and Peter looked like brothers even though Jack favored Louise, with subtle, delicate facial features, whereas Peter looked more like Tim, ruggedly handsome with those bee-stung lips.

After Louise and Aggie arrived, they all went down to the basement where Gigi was already waiting. The large room was decorated in the same soft tones as the rest of the house but felt more casual given the pool table, the Foosball table, and the dartboard on one wall. The stereo speakers for the small wooden dance floor still hung in the corners. A door led out to the yard, where they’d all stepped out one night to try clove cigarettes. Except for Peter; he’d refused, saying he would never let smoke enter his body, especially during baseball season, and he most certainty did not approve anyway. But he needn’t have worried. They all choked after the first puff, all except Declan. He smoked the entire thing like he’d been doing it for years. He was always cooler than the rest of them.

They all sat on the leather couch or the soft, fluffy chairs when Sutton asked them to. “My mother wanted me to read you all a letter. Then we’re supposed to hang out like we used to.”

“Does that mean you kicking our asses at darts?” asked Peter.

Sutton laughed. “Exactly.”

“Watch your language, Peter,” said Louise.

“Sorry, Mom.”

“I’m going to try and read this without crying,” said Sutton.

“Cry if you want to, dear,” said Louise. “We’re all here for you.”

Sutton read.

Dear Jack, Peter, Gigi, Aggie and Louise,

If you’re reading this, I’m dead and you’re all half cocked by now after the memorial. Aggie and Peter, I hope Sutton showed you where I kept the good scotch. Gigi, I always had the house stocked for your visits with that chardonnay from Washington State you liked so much. There’s an extra case in the garage if you haven’t found it yet.

But I don’t know why I’m talking about booze. I’m dead. This should be a serious moment. Louise, I’m sure you’re appalled. But, before I go on, there are two bottles of Quilceda Creek Cabernet I was saving in the cellar for a special occasion. It would be wonderful if you would open them and toast me after we’re done here. I know it sounds terribly vain but I loved you all very much and it gives me comfort to know I might be missed just a little by each of you. And I hate for that wine to go to waste.

I should come to the point, so you kids can dance and play darts and get into trouble. By the way, I knew about the booze you used to sneak in when you were in high school and later when you came home from college. I also know about the night you decided to smoke cloves in the yard. Smoke rises. You kids always thought you were cleverer than Louise and I but you were mistaken.

Talking about money is so tacky but I guess there’s no polite way to say it. I’ve left you all some money in the sum of five million dollars each. I hope it will prove useful. It gave me a lot of pleasure knowing I could leave it to you, especially given that I made it from all those awful movies. I would have given it to you when I was alive but I knew Louise wouldn’t let me. I was always afraid of her, as you all should be.

Louise, now don’t be mad. I want you to have it. You were a better person than I in every way. Thank you for being my friend for most of our lives. You gave me some of my best moments. I’ll make sure to have a glass of wine ready for you when you join me wherever it is we’re all going.

There I go, talking about booze again.

Peter and Jack, I know things weren’t always easy for you growing up. Your father’s a first class jackass most of the time but I do know he loves you. I hope you’ll find peace at some point or at least acceptance. I understand, having had a difficult mother, how hard it can be. My wish is that this money lets you live the kind of lives you want without compromise. Thank you for always being so good to your mother and Aggie. It made me proud when you were little boys, and proud to see the men you grew into.

Aggie, what can I say? You’re the smartest woman I ever met. Thank you for the encouragement you gave me when I needed it so desperately and didn’t get it from my mother. Enjoy this. And for Heaven’s sake, spend it foolishly. You can’t take it with you.

Gigi, you’ve worked harder than any person I’ve ever known. I know you’ve had a lot to conquer and a lot to prove, given your circumstances. I understand, believe me. But I worry about you. Life is about more than work. Maybe let go of all that ambition for a short time and take a trip or go on one of those online dating sites and find a man to love. Regardless, now you don’t have to work quite so hard. And for God’s sake, don’t give any of it to your mother. Trust me, it’s not a good investment.

Well, that’s it, I guess. I hate to say goodbye but we all have to go sometime. Thank you for being the loves of my life. Be well. Be happy.

Constance

They all sat, staring at Sutton. No one spoke for several seconds.

Finally, Aggie shifted slightly, breaking the spell. “Good Lord, how much was Constance worth?”

“A lot,” said Sutton. “She had it all invested. I had no idea.”

“Well, she never spent any,” said Louise. “But this is too much. We can’t possibly accept it.”

“You have to.” Sutton smiled. “Otherwise, she may come back to haunt us.”

Gigi was crying, silently. “Louise is right. It’s too much.”

“She wanted you to have it,” said Sutton. “Please, just be happy. Think of the freedom it gives you. Gigi, you can do anything you want now.” She looked at Jack. “Jack, if you don’t want to teach high school any longer, you don’t have to. Money is simply freedom. And she wanted you all to have that.”

“She’s right,” said Jack. Sutton looked at him, surprised. Of all of them, she wouldn’t have expected Jack to agree. “Life is short and unpredictable. This is a blessing, an unexpected one for sure, but think of what we could do with it, even for others if we want.” He moved toward the stereo and flipped on the radio. He held his hand out to Gigi. “Come on, Gigi, dance with me.”

Gigi’s eyebrows went up. “Me?” She pointed at her chest with her thumb.

Jack smiled. “I’m not just some kid any longer.” He brought her to her feet. “When we were younger I always wanted to ask you to dance but I knew you thought I was just Peter’s little brother.”

“No one wanted to dance with me back then,” said Gigi.

“That’s a lie.” Jack smiled. “I did. But wow, you’ve grown up nicely.”

“As have you,” said Gigi flirtatiously, following him to the dance floor.

Declan, at the doorway, dimmed the lights. “I’ll find the wine.”

“Thanks, Dec,” said Sutton.

Peter stood and walked to the dartboard, pulling out the darts one by one. “Sutton, you think you can still kick my ass?”

“With my eyes closed.” Grinning, she took the darts from him. She aimed one at the dartboard, hitting the bull’s-eye.

“How do you do that?” asked Peter.

“I don’t know. It’s just so easy.” Sutton threw another. It landed right next to the first. “One of my useless talents.”

“You never know when it might come in handy,” said Peter. “Now where’s that good scotch your mother referred to?”

“I’ll get it for you the first game you win.” Sutton threw another bull’s-eye.

He groaned. “We could be here all night.”

“I’m just kidding. I’ll get it for you.” She turned to Aggie, who very uncharacteristically was still sitting on the couch, looking dazed. “Aggie, does this mean you’ll cook something besides bean soup?” Sutton had forgotten until she read it in her mother’s manuscript earlier that day how Aggie, Louise, and the boys had lived on bean soup. “No better deal at the grocery store than a bag of dried beans,” Aggie had said more than once.

“I may never eat another bean as long as I live,” said Aggie. “Only problem now is I’m going to have to be extra diligent not to let a man try to worm his way into my life just to get my money.”

Everyone laughed.

SUTTON WOKE AT MIDNIGHT,
fully clothed and sleeping on top of the covers on one of the twin beds in the guest room. She lay there for a moment, disoriented. How had she arrived here? The last thing she remembered was doing a tequila shot with Gigi. Then it all came rushing back.
Patrick Waters. Murder. Louise dropping a tray. Gigi and wine. Too much wine. Don’t marry Roger. Declan. One hundred million dollars.
She felt her left hand with her right. No more ring.

Her hand felt fine without it.

When she’d been in Paris she’d taken it off and left it in her room the entire time.
I’ll wear it when I get back
, she thought at first. And then,
when I get back I might end this
.

This will be my grandbabies’ room
, her mother had said when she had Sutton’s old room redecorated. The combination of moonlight and the night-light near the door helped her make out most objects in the room: twin mattresses and metal frames, painted light green, the covers an old-fashioned white with one of the beds holding white pillows sprinkled with blue flowers; a small half-circle white table between the beds; and a wooden “Hotel” sign over one of the beds.

She rolled over to the other side, staring at the white wooden shutter that covered the bottom half of the window. After a few moments, she got up and brushed her teeth, hoping to get the awful taste of grief and stale booze out of her mouth. Then she washed her face and ran a brush through her hair, examining herself. Her eyes were bloodshot and puffy. There were dark circles under her eyes. Her mother would’ve cut some cucumber slices and placed them over her eyes.

While changing into a soft cotton nightgown, she caught a glimpse of her body in the mirror. She was thin naturally and she’d barely eaten since the news came five days ago. Her hipbones were jutting out and her breasts were smaller than ever.
You need to eat more
, Constance was always telling her.
You’re too thin.
This had always made Sutton chuckle, considering how little her mother ate.

Needing a glass of water, she walked down the hall quietly. The door to Declan’s room was shut. She went to the kitchen. Declan was at the counter, sketching in a notebook with a tumbler of scotch next to him. She stood in the doorway, watching him. His back was to her so she could not see what he sketched on his pad. Perhaps sensing her, he went still and turned his head, meeting her eyes. Without shifting his gaze, he closed the cover of his pad. “You all right?” he asked, his eyes soft. “You didn’t move a muscle when I put you in bed.”

“Hungover.” She moved toward him. “Woke up with the awful feeling.”

“At first you wake, not remembering, and then it comes back.”

“And the sick feeling rushes over you.”

“I know.” He reached for his scotch. The ice clanked when he drank.

“When did you start with the scotch?”

“You mean today or in general?”

“In general.”

“When I lived in London. Couldn’t get warm there. The dampness chilled me to the bone.”

She looked at him, searching his face. “Have you slept at all?”

“No, Peter and I took a drive up the coast.”

“Why?”

“I made him go to the spot where my mother was killed, as if after all these years there would be some clue or something. Then we came back to Legley Bay. I wanted to stop at the Dew Drop Inn bar for old time’s sake but Peter hates it. Apparently he found his dad there with one of his girls one time.”