Twanged (12 page)

I
know, he thought angrily. It bothered him to hear people talking about Brigid O ‘Neill. She was his, not theirs.

Those two cowboys were at the party last night, he thought. They were talking like they owned her. Somebody at that party was planning to hurt Brigid, I just know it. I have to get to her and show her that I’m the only one who can take care of her.

Whatever it takes, I’ve got to do it, he thought as his gaze returned to his meal and he dug in.

17

B
ettina wiped the sweat from her brow with the white towel that hung around her neck.

“I’m pleased with your work today,” her trainer, a thirtyish tanned hunk, said to her. “Your abs, quads, and glutes were really responding.”

“I felt that, too,” Bettina replied, patting her stomach. “This is the area where I need the most work, I think.”

He nodded solemnly. “I used to have a gut, too.”

Bettina blinked and looked down at her stomach. “Do you think I have a gut?” she asked with a nervous laugh.

Looking like a statue in tights, the trainer sighed. In a tone a reporter might use to announce the death of a world leader, he said, “Let’s just say your fat percentage in that area is over the limit of acceptability.”

Bettina took the news with the grace she had learned to call upon in charm school. Nonetheless the remark made her feel crabby. The endorphins that had been jumping around her body since the workout stopped dead in their tracks. “Okay. See you tomorrow,” she said, closing the door behind him.

Scowling, she wandered into the kitchen, looking for someone to take it out on. The only thing that greeted her was the sight of an empty bag of Dunkin’ Donuts. Oh yeah, Constance has off today, she thought. Not that it bothered her. Bettina never liked to have much staff around unless they were there to tend to her body, like her trainer or masseuse or hairdresser, or to take care of her soul, like Peace Man. A cleaning crew came in twice a week to dust and vacuum and mop the house. The minute their van pulled up, Bettina would take off to shop.

Where the hell was Chappy? she wondered.

“CHAAAAAAAPPPPPPPY,”
she called out.

Silence.

“CHHAAAAAAAAAAAAPPPPPPPPPPY
,” she shouted

again.

Toenails clicked on the wooden floor down the hall, becoming louder and louder as Tootsie scurried into the room, a little ball of white fur jumping around in circles and wagging her tail. She looked very happy, as if experiencing her own endorphin rush from a workout session for canines.

Bettina leaned over to pick up her baby. She rubbed her neck. “I said Chappy, not Tootsie, baby. You’re my Tootsie, Tootsie Tootsie Tootsie.” She buried her face in Tootsie’s neck. “Does Tootsie think Mama has a gut?” Bettina asked.

Tootsie licked her face.
“YIP. YIP. YIP YIP YIP,”
the little dog answered.

Bettina bent down and dropped her back on the

floor. “
CHAAAAAPPPPYYY
.”

She went down the long hall to his study. The double doors were closed. She knocked sharply. When there was no answer, she turned the knob and walked in.

A tray with coffee cups and donuts was abandoned on his desk.

Bettina charged over to the bookcase and rapped on it. It swerved open. The helmets on the little shelf behind it were gone.

“The men’s lounge,” she said under her breath. He must be down with Duke in that dusty old speakeasy, she thought. That place made her itch. Well, at least I don’t have to sit here with his mother and grandmother like I used to in the old days when the three Tinka men would head down there. His grandmother did nothing but yak about the picnic club she’d formed in 1910 and all the fun they’d had. Talk about being bored out of your skull.

Bettina shrugged. She closed the bookcase, exited the room that her husband sat in to think up ways to waste their money, and bounded up the stairs to her second-floor room. Tootsie joyfully bounced after her. That lady who had nearly drowned was coming over for Peace Man’s session this afternoon, Bettina thought. She wanted to interview her and Chappy sometime this week. Show what a lovely couple they were and all the culture they’d add to Southampton.

Wouldn’t it make Chappy’s mother spin in her grave? Bettina thought. Me and Chappy written up as the perfect Southampton couple! Bettina laughed out loud as she relished the thought. In her bathroom she turned on the shower that had nozzles firing water from six different directions.

I’ll show you, Mother Tinka, she thought happily.

18

C
laudia and Ned were lying side by side in the hammock behind their house in Southampton. The hammock wasn’t facing in the direction Ned thought best for prosperity, but if it were the sun would have been in their eyes.

They were cuddled up, companionably reading the Sunday papers.

Clad in an old pair of swimming trunks, Ned was staring at a picture of a movie star’s tastefully furnished living room. It was featured in the magazine section.

“He’ll never be happy in that house,” Ned grumbled. “How could he? Look at where he put that couch!”

Claudia, dressed in a pink bathing suit with green buttons, and a matching pink-and-green headband, glanced over. “Put him on the list to send a copy of your book to when it comes out.”

“He’ll have so much bad luck in that house, he’ll have moved by then.” Disgusted, Ned turned the page. “Until people around here understand how important feng shui is, I’ll never be able to make a decent living at it.”

Claudia took off her sunglasses and looked into her lover’s eyes. “The movement is growing,” she said. “It takes time.”

“I guess, pumpkin,” he replied as he took her hand. “It’s just that the woman who fell in the pool tried to make me feel silly about feng shui.”

“How so?” Claudia asked gently. She knew Ned’s ego was very fragile. He hated being dependent on her to get him jobs. His last specialty had been the fine art of plant watering, and it just hadn’t worked out.

“She said that sometimes there’s only one good place to put a chair or a couch or a bed. And if that’s the case, is the person doomed to a life of unhappiness?” Ned’s eyes teared up. “I had to tell her yes. What did she do? She laughed.”

Claudia rubbed his arm. “It takes courage to be a pioneer, honey. Are you sure she laughed at you?”

“It was a funny noise she made—sounded like a donkey. Like a
hnnnn.”

The phone in their kitchen rang.

“I’ll get it,” Claudia said. “I should have brought out the cellular phone.”

Ned held on for balance as Claudia got out of the hammock. He watched as she disappeared into the house. Feeling miserable, he closed his eyes. Vaguely, he could hear her talking.

“Yes!” she finally yelled in a manner most unlike Claudia. She came running out the screen door. It shut with a bang. “It’s always darkest before the dawn!” she cried.

“What do you mean?” Ned asked, his interest mildly stirred.

“That was one of the guys from the country radio station on the phone. They’re having Brigid O’Neill on tomorrow, and they’re going to be talking about superstitions and curses and New Age kind of stuff. They want you to come on and talk about feng shui!” With that pronouncement she jumped on top of him.

“Baby!” Ned yelled as he stretched his arms heavenward and then encircled them around Claudia’s waist. When she raised her head to kiss him, he asked anxiously, “Do you know how good their ratings are?”

19

T
ootling along in the dented Rolls-Royce, Chappy and Duke enjoyed the warm sunshine of a Hamptons afternoon as they cruised over to the home of the unsuspecting Ernie Enders.

They crossed busy Route 27 and took the back roads to Sag Harbor, about a twenty-minute drive away. As usual the traffic was considerable, but Chappy enjoyed being seen in his Rolls, even if it was only by the person in the car next to him caught in the same traffic jam.

They passed antique stores, restaurants, and an open field where a tractor was dragging a wag-onload of watermelons. An old graveyard, a garden center, and little brick houses with flower boxes and hedges all contributed to the picturesque countryside.

They passed joggers and bicyclists out for a little exercise and fresh clear air.

And of course they passed multimillion-dollar estates.

“Ah yes,” Chappy reminisced, the memory of holding the fiddle in his arms mingling with pleasant images from his early years. “Southampton is where I belong. Truly. I’ve been spending my summers here since I was a child. . . those days spent playing on the beach with my pail and shovel at the Tinka homestead. Mama and Papa and Grandma and Grandpa. Grandpa wearing his ever-present straw hat and monocle. It was glorious. That’s why when Mother finally died a few years back, I had to knock down the house and build the castle. The memories in the house were too painful and I was all alone.”

“I thought you said the house was too small.”

“Well, that too,” Chappy admitted irritably. “And I was anxious to try something different. I still don’t know why the townspeople made such a fuss over the castle.”

“Because it’s so big,” Duke commented as he turned his head to watch a water-skier skim across the surface of an inlet. “And the other house had been built by a famous architect. You even said it was the only house in the neighborhood that survived the hurricane of 1938.”

“Oh, so what!” Chappy sniffed. “When that theatre is up and running and a big success, they’ll forgive me. I’ll be bringing culture here. They just don’t know. Bettina will be so thrilled when we finally get on the A-list for parties.”

“Where do they keep that list?” Duke asked practically.

“It’s not a list that anybody keeps, stupid! It’s just that people want you around. Everything has changed so much out here. It’s hard to make a name for yourself with all the movie stars and celebrities”—Chappy punched his left palm with his right fist—”but having that fiddle with my initials planted under the stage is going to make a big difference in our lives.” He paused. “I still can’t understand why thumbtacks don’t impress people.”

“It’s too bad Post-it Notes started cutting into the business.”

“OH SHUT UP!”

No matter how much Chappy yelled at Duke, he remained unfazed. “Here we go,” he said as they pulled down a winding street and stopped in front of a neat little house with a mailbox that read
ENDERS.

Inside, Ernie was enjoying a little lunch with Pearl. She’d put out a nice plate of cold cuts and potato salad. They had a map spread out on the table and were in their umpteenth discussion about which route they should take on their cross-country trip. The only thing they knew for sure was that they’d be heading first to Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, for the big wedding this Saturday. After that, the sky’s the limit.

Pearl had read a lot of articles about older couples discovering the country when they had the time to wander, but Ernie had drawn the line when she wanted to buy an RV.

“We won’t use it enough, Pearl. I like to get back to my own house. This trip is a once-in-a-lifetime
ahhh
trip.”

“I guess,” Pearl had said.

When the doorbell rang, Ernie was helping himself to another serving of potato salad. “We expecting somebody?” he asked.

Pearl grimaced. “Nah.” She got up from the chair. “I’ll get it.”

“Come in, come in . . .” Pearl said a moment later. “We were just having a little bite to eat. Ernie needs to keep up his strength, you know. . . .”

Aggravated, Ernie pushed out his chair and got up. Here comes Mr. Big Shot and his Sidekick, he thought.

“Ernie,” Chappy said with a forced geniality. “We just thought. . .”

Not bothering to listen, Ernie shuffled out to the greenhouse, waving them along behind him.

“So,” he inquired, “what’s your excuse for being here now?”

The fiddle on the workbench was clearly still a work in progress.

“We have pictures!” Chappy said, proudly handing them to Ernie. He glanced at the fiddle, trying hard not to let his anxiety show.

Ernie squinted at the Polaroids. “Did you take these?”

“Yes,” Chappy replied.

“So why didn’t you bring me the fiddle? It would be better if I could see the fiddle, feel the fiddle, smell the fiddle. Then I can make this one more like it!”

“But but but,” Chappy began, “it belongs to somebody else, somebody who needs it. This is a big surprise . . .” His dismay was apparent when he glanced again at the fiddle on the workbench. It didn’t look like the CT fiddle at all. Brigid would know the difference right away. “Besides, this still looks new, and the original one looks old.”

“Give me time!” Ernie demanded. “You give me a rush job, and then you don’t leave me alone! Here”—he picked it up—”take it and get out!”

“Please!” Chappy begged. “Please! I’ll pay you double. I really need that fiddle!”

“Double?” Ernie asked, surprised.

“Double,” Chappy agreed meekly.

“I’ll call you when I’m done.”

“Thank you, thank you,” Chappy said as he pushed Duke, who’d been standing there silently, out the door.

They hurried past Pearl, who would soon find out that they could not plan two trips to Florida this winter.

Out at the car, Chappy and Duke both jumped in and shut the doors. Duke started the engine and pulled off down the block.

“That was an expensive little visit,” Duke commented.

“Shut up and drive!” Chappy ordered.

20

I
n the turreted room of Chappy and Bettina’s mansion, the group was gathering for Peace Man’s enlightenment session. Bettina thought four o’clock in the afternoon was a perfect time for this particular kind of therapy. After a day of swimming, tennis, or golf, everyone could come and tend to the spiritual side of life before the evening’s activities got under way. These activities could include anything from dining at a good table in a trendy restaurant, attending a worthwhile dinner party, or, lo and behold, simply taking in a movie. Spirits were ready for an awakening that would sustain the hard core through the important socializing hours in the Hamptons.