Chapter Nine
Viv looked at Ross’s implacable face. Rock and a hard place? More like being clamped between two of the earth’s tectonic plates. She’d intended to skip the after-funeral get-together, citing a headache, premenstrual craziness, anything. But if hosting Charlie’s family got Ross off her sister’s back then Viv didn’t really have a choice. “And you’ll ride shotgun,” she reiterated as she held out a hand to shake on it, “stop any lynch party?”
His mouth twitched and his incongruous dimple made a brief appearance. Dang, but the man was hot, even mid blackmail. She liked making him smile when he didn’t want to, liked cracking through that icy disapproval.
Of course, Viv reflected, with her being Merry—the sister-in-law who’d purportedly broken his brother’s heart—she should probably refrain from flirting with him. Though it might be worth it just to see his face. As his hand seized hers in a firm handshake, she smiled at the thought.
Ross released her hand abruptly. “Okay, let’s get on with it.” He gestured to the coatrack. “You can hang your coat here.”
Viv’s hands dropped protectively to the belt. “I’m cold.”
“Really?” He looked at her perspiring forehead and she felt herself flush even hotter.
“Really.” She’d allowed twenty minutes to change before Ross picked her up, and had spent thirty comforting Susan. You’d think she’d know by now to factor in the unexpected.
Viv led the way up the stairs then realized she had no idea which room was Linda’s and paused at the mirror.
Shaking his head, Ross carried on. His limp was less pronounced today but his footsteps slowed as he approached a paneled door at the end of the corridor. As he opened it, he recoiled slightly before going in. “Can we get this over with?” he said shortly.
“Sure.” Curious to see what might have stalled him, Viv followed, stopping at the doorway. It was exactly Linda’s kind of bedroom. Restrained ostentation in gold, cream and eggshell-blue with ornately carved French reproduction furniture. Ross was at the window, sweeping aside the cream, brushed satin curtains to open it. It must have been the lingering scent of Linda’s perfume—expensive, heavy, floral—that he’d reacted to. Being here was hard for him, harder than Viv had appreciated.
In that case, they’d do this quickly.
The wardrobe ran the length of one wall. Opening the sliding door she cast a professional eye over the clothes, immaculately organized—by season as well as color—with shoes neatly stacked in clear storage boxes. “What would suit her?” she mused aloud.
“A witch’s hat and broom?” Ross pushed aside the curtain and took another breath of fresh air. “God, it’s good to say that.”
“How are you doing,” she asked. “With the pretending?”
Ross shrugged. I’m not comfortable with it, but hell, what choice do I have?” Every time he was distracted he unconsciously massaged his leg.
He saw the direction of her gaze and straightened.
“How’s the rehab going?” she asked to cover the awkward moment.
“Great.”
“Dan said you’ve been helping out with trainees,” Viv persisted. Okay, she still asked her brother about his former troop mate, she couldn’t help it. “Is that something you’ll be doing more of when you go back?”
Ross stared at her. “Is that what Dan suggested?” he asked slowly.
“He mentioned it was an option.”
“Did he?”
The hair on the nape of her neck rose at his tone. “Did I get that wrong? He only said it might be something you’d consider.”
A moment passed, he suddenly put up a hand to rub his forehead, shielding his eyes. “No…he’d never do that to me,” he muttered.
“Do what?”
“Nothing. Go ahead, choose something.”
Baffled, she returned her attention to the wardrobe, flicking through the hangers. “Aqua seems to be Linda’s favorite color.”
“Yeah, I remember her in a lot of bluey-green.”
Taking that as a direction, Viv chose a simple belted dress patterned in swirls of mariner-blue and seafoam-green and laid it on the bed.
Ross looked at it strangely. “She wore that at Dad’s funeral.”
Viv picked it up. “I’m sorry, I’ll change it.”
“No.” He turned back to the window. “She wore it because it was his favorite. It’s probably appropriate.”
She could see the tension across his shoulders, like a rubber band pulled tight. “Can I ask you a question…about the day she died? Why were you visiting a woman you disliked so much?”
He didn’t turn around. “She had something of my mother’s I wanted.”
“What was it?”
“The artwork she was taking down when she fell.”
“Oh,” she said, then the significance hit her. “Ohhh! But that doesn’t make her fall your fault. You know that, right?”
He faced her with folded arms. “We done here?”
“No, we need shoes.”
“The funeral director said they were optional.”
“She has to wear shoes,” she said sharply. She couldn’t forget Linda in her stocking feet, water pooling under her heels, wicking up her trousers. Suddenly afraid she was going to cry, Viv smoothed out the creases in the skirt.
Behind her she heard Ross move to the wardrobe. He probably thought she was being melodramatic but as the last person to see Linda alive, Viv felt a terrible compulsion to do right by her.
A pair of silver slingbacks landed on the bed. “She wore these with that dress,” he said.
“You remember what shoes she wore?”
“It’s my job to notice things.”
Viv swallowed hard. “Thanks. I was thinking some costume jewelry in turquoise but I’ll need Charlie’s permission.”
Ross pulled out his cell, dialed the number and then handed it to her. Charlie said he was happy to defer to her judgment. “Thanks, Meredith, you know how hopeless I am at this.” Viv resisted the impulse to tell him that he’d never get better if he didn’t practice because it was something her long-suffering twin would never say, even to her estranged husband.
“I phoned Pastor Fred about taking the service,” Charlie said. “He suggested getting some of our church choir. How would you feel about that?”
“It’s entirely up to you.” None of my business, Charlie. We’re separated, remember?
“So, can you text everybody? See who’s available?”
She blinked. “You want me to organize the choir?”
“It makes sense. Listen, I have to go, the concrete truck’s returned with another load.”
“Charlie, wait.” Both twins sang like caterwauling cats, but maybe church choirs were obliged to be inclusive? Viv tried to recall if Merry had ever mentioned anything, but she drew a blank. “I won’t be expected to sing at the funeral, will I?”
“God, no,” said Charlie with feeling. “Your usual job. And we’re only talking two hymns, the start and finish of the service—not there, you idiot! Sorry, Mere, gotta go, we’ll talk later.” He hung up.
What was her usual job? Printing copies of the hymn sheets? Though Merry couldn’t sing, she did play an instrument. But Viv was confident the choir wouldn’t be harmonizing to a double bass.
“Everything okay?” Ross asked.
“Sure.” Clarification would have to wait until her next phone call to Merry. In the meantime, Viv collected a few pieces of costume jewelry, then crossed to the nightstand and picked up a photograph. “We’ll give this to the funeral parlor so they can see how to apply her makeup.”
It was a studio shot of Linda with her late husband. In keeping with men styled by their social-climbing wives, John Coltrane looked both uncomfortable and immaculate. “Of course Linda would treat her husband like another accessory,” she commented. Then remembered. John was Ross’s dad, too. “I’m sorry.”
Ross shrugged. “He didn’t have to go along with it.” Viv returned her attention to the photo. On the few occasions they’d met, she remembered John Coltrane as a nice man, if resigned and sad. “Did your dad ever try and mediate between you and Linda?”
“Probably. But he didn’t stand a chance. To Linda I was a surly reminder of a woman she wanted my father to forget. And to me, she was the home wrecker who stole Dad away and broke Mum’s heart.” He seemed to become aware that he was talking about his feelings, because he stopped. Blinked. “Ready to go?”
He picked up the dress and shoes and left. Conversation ended. But that wasn’t Viv’s style. Not when she could see he was hurting. And this was one thing she could definitely fix.
Grabbing the jewelry and photograph, she caught up to him at the bottom of the stairs. “Ross, where did it end up? Your mother’s sampler?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t find it in the cleanup. I expect Linda hid it.”
“No, she was still taking it off the wall when I went to wash pollen off my hands.”
“It doesn’t matter,” he insisted, and opened the front door.
“I wonder…” Putting down her load, Viv tried to slide out one end of the black lacquered dresser. It didn’t budge. “Come help me move this.”
He shook his head. “I don’t want it.”
“Ross,” she said impatiently, “you didn’t scare her into trying to hide it. When I arrived Linda was taking the sampler down to burn it.”
“What!”
“She told me.”
He huffed out a breath. “She really was a piece of work.”
“So, you going to help me move this or what?”
When he’d hauled it forward, Viv crouched down and slid her arm into the gap. “I can feel something…yes…it’s a frame.” She pulled out the sampler and held it out but Ross didn’t take it. “Don’t you dare feel guilty,” she said. “Meanness killed Linda.”
His gaze met hers, for once unguarded. The anguish shocked her. “Should I tell Charlie?”
“That his mother was a vindictive horrible woman? I wouldn’t,” she advised.
His shoulders relaxed and he accepted the sampler. “Thank you,” he said gruffly. Smiled.
“Don’t mention it.” Viv turned to pick up Linda’s accessories. Because her reaction to that smile was far from sisterly.
* * *
“I’m hungry,” Tilly announced as she climbed into the backseat of Ross’s Range Rover.
“Say hello to your uncle.” Viv dumped Tilly’s bag and morning’s drawings at her niece’s feet.
“HelloUncleRoss.” She returned her attention to Viv. “Can we get McDonald’s on the way home?”
“That’s only for treats, honey. If you’re hungry, eat what’s in your lunch box. Right now we’re going to choose flowers for Nana Lin.”
Tilly gave her a meaningful look. “But you said I could have whatever I want, remember?”
“That’s not exactly what I said.” Viv laughed nervously, acutely conscious that Ross had slung an arm over the back of the driver’s seat and was also sending her a meaningful look. Oh, hell. “Anyway—” she leaned forward to help Tilly with her seat belt “—we’ll talk about it later, okay?” She launched a meaningful stare of her own.
“But that’s not—”
“You heard your mother, Attila.” Ross ruffled his niece’s hair and faced the steering wheel. “Let it go now.” Tilly folded her arms and sat back, her mouth set in a mutinous line.
“Good girl,” Viv encouraged. Shutting the door on her niece’s sulky face she returned to the front passenger seat, hot and sweaty under the coat she couldn’t take off. Crisis averted. Ross started the ignition and the SUV rumbled out of the school parking lot.
“Tilly was helping out with the kindergarten class this morning,” Viv said brightly to Ross.
“Yeah?” In the rearview mirror, he grinned at Tilly. “So what did you teach them?”
“I read stories and said their drawings were good an’ stuff…. Uncle Ross, do you know my auntie Viv?”
Viv stiffened. The little rat.
“I met her at your mum and dad’s wedding but that was a long time ago. Why?”
“Just wondered.”
“Look.” Viv pointed. “A Prius. One of those eco-cars.”
“McDonald’s recycles,” said Tilly.
Ross laughed. “Nice try, kid.”
“You can tell me all about it later,” Viv stressed.
“Did Auntie Viv look the same as Mum when you saw her, Uncle Ross?”
Flipping down the passenger visor, Viv pretended to check her makeup in the inset mirror and glared at her niece. Tilly glared back.
“Not at all.” Ross braked to allow a car waiting for a gap in the traffic to pull in front of him. “Her hair was white with pink streaks in it.”
Even locked in a stare-off with Tilly, Viv heard the male speculation in his voice. “So you were tempted.”
“What?” Ross said, confused.
“Nothing.” Damn it. She’d blinked. And if Tilly’s smirk was anything to go by, she’d read that as victory.
“McDonald’s is coming up, Mum,” she said in a singsong voice. “Last chance to change your mi-i-ind.”
“You know it’s the weirdest thing—” Viv snapped the visor closed “—I know it’s only ten-thirty but I suddenly find myself craving chicken nuggets. Pull in, Ross.”
“You’re giving in?”
“Don’t miss the turn.”
Shaking his head in disgust, he swung the car into McD’s drive-through lane.
“I don’t want drive-through,” said Tilly. “I wanna eat in the restaurant next to the playground.”
Ross looked at Viv. “We’re expected at the florist’s.”
“What’s an extra twenty minutes,” she said feebly.
He stared at her, incredulous, then shrugged. “Hey, it’s your funeral.” The tires squealed as he accelerated out of the drive-through lane and into the restaurant’s parking lot.
“No, it’s not, it’s Nana Lin’s,” said Tilly, cheerful again now that she’d got her way.
Trying to retrieve the situation, Viv wagged a finger at her niece. “No Coke, though. That’s one thing I’m going to be strict about.” She only sounded more pathetic.
Ross obviously thought so, too, rolling his eyes as he got out of the car.
“I don’t like Coke anyway,” said Tilly airily.
Resisting the urge to strangle her niece, Viv grabbed Tilly’s hand and hurried ahead. “Our treat,” she called over her shoulder. “What would you like, Ross?”
“Just coffee, thanks. Black, no sugar.”
“You get a table. C’mon, Tilly.”
In the queue she positioned them both so the only view Ross got from the window booth he’d selected was Viv’s back. Warm air blasted from an overhead air-conditioning unit, mixing with the heavier mimosa of oil and fries. “Tilly, this isn’t a game. This is about keeping people happy remember…your dad, your mum…”
“And me,” Tilly said. “I have to be kept happy, too.”
The queue moved forward. Over her shoulder Viv glanced at Ross. They didn’t have time for this. Sweat trickled down her spine. Surreptitiously, she undid her coat and flapped it open in tiny bursts, desperate for a draft.
“Okay, let’s talk a deal,” she said briskly. “What will it take for you to be happy?”
“McDonald’s every day?” The question in her voice suggested she already knew the answer.
Viv shook her head. “Today and that’s it. Your mum would kill me if we ate out everyday.” The queue moved forward again.
“I want my friends to come for a sleepover.”
“It won’t work. First we’ve got the funeral and then your mum will be home and she’ll need peace and quiet. But I will take you and your friends to a movie.”
“Laserforce would be better. It’s where you shoot people with lasers.”
“Done.” Viv opened her handbag for her wallet. Why was there a packet of sausages in there? Oh, that’s right— Salsa.
“I wanna stay up late.”
“What time are we talking?” She had no idea when kids were supposed to go to bed.
“Nine o’clock.”
Sounded reasonable. Viv pulled out her wallet, closed her handbag and reshouldered it. “So your normal bedtime is…?”
“Seven-thirty on a school night”
Lucky she’d checked. “Eight,” she said firmly. “Okay, that’s enough.”
“One more,” Tilly insisted.
Viv folded her arms. “What?”
Tilly stopped looking like Tony Soprano and became a little girl. “I want to phone Mum every day.”
Of course you can. Viv pretended to consider. “And in return for all this you’ll keep our secret and behave yourself? No more stunts like you just pulled with Ross?”
“Promise.” Tilly held out her hand. “Now we have to shake.”
“How do I know I can trust you?” Viv said sternly.
The little girl looked offended. “I’m a Brownie.”
So blackmail was okay for Brownies, but questioning their word wasn’t? On the other hand, Viv was currently living a lie so who was she to quibble? Sighing, she shook Tilly’s hand.
“Deal.”
* * *
“Why is your cell turned off?” Merry demanded as Viv was preparing the kids’ dinner some five hours later. “I’ve been calling you for hours.”
“I told you I’d phone as soon as I had privacy.” Viv navigated the pureed applesauce still splattered around the highchair from breakfast and plonked a new two-liter bottle of milk in the fridge. In total she’d had maybe five minutes alone today, and even then Harry had banged on the bathroom door. According to Tilly, mummies had to leave it open.
“I can’t take your calls when I’m with Ross or Charlie,” she reminded her twin. “Then I was running la— To pick up Harry, and as soon as we got home we exercised Salsa. He’s been shut in the yard all day.” Viv hoped Merry wasn’t all that fond of her spring daffodils.
Far from being grateful, the schnoodle had stubbornly sat on his haunches when Viv had put on his lead, only cooperating when Tilly took over. Their makeshift family had walked to the corner store where Viv had bought some basics for dinner…milk, ground beef, pasta sauce, spaghetti. Most of it had ended up stowed around Harry’s body in the stroller after the plastic carrier bag was needed as a pooper-scooper.
Viv was heartily tired of poop.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped,” said Merry. “It’s just so frustrating being unable to do anything or help…so much depends on you.”
About to shut the fridge, Viv paused. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“How would you like to be bedridden and passive when your future’s at stake?”
Okay, maybe the comment wasn’t personal. It was her low blood sugar, she hadn’t eaten since the McNuggets. Grabbing an apple, Viv closed the fridge and returned to the stove. “I’d absolutely hate it,” she admitted. “So what did the surgeon say?” She dumped the minced beef in the pan where onions and garlic were already frying. Smelled almost homey.
“He thinks I might have picked up an infection, they’ve done some blood tests. Anyway, tell me about my kids? Is Tilly coping with Linda’s death? Is Harry still constipated?”
The apple halfway to her mouth, Viv put it down. “Harry’s constipation is cured, believe me.” She heard brooom-brooom under the kitchen table where the baby sat in the middle of his circular train track, resisting Viv’s attempt to teach him choo-choo.
“And Tilly’s coping,” she added. “She’s drawing a picture now to put in Nana Lin’s coffin.” Ross’s idea. Viv glanced into the dining room where her niece labored with crayons and card, feet swinging on the chair, her tongue out in concentration. There’d been more tears at the florist’s as reality hit the child.
She’d resisted Viv’s efforts to comfort her until Ross had crouched down and told Tilly that everyone cried when someone they loved died…yeah, even him…buckets and buckets.
Mollified, Tilly had allowed Viv’s hug, cheering up when her aunt asked her to choose the flowers for Linda’s wreath. The result had been a hideous clash of colors but they came from Tilly’s heart, and hopefully Linda was in a place now to appreciate the gesture.
“Tell me everything about your day,” Merry said. “Did anyone suspect?”
Viv stirred the meaty lumps out of the ground beef. “We had a couple of setbacks but your secret’s still safe.”
“What do you mean, ‘setbacks’?”
“Hang on.” Crossing to the dining room door, Viv closed it softly, catching a glimpse of Tilly’s picture. Mum, Dad and the kids all together. Her throat tightened. Returning to the kitchen she picked up the phone again.
“Tilly overheard our conversation this morning,” she told Merry, “but she’s on board—” at a cost “—and hanging out to talk to you.” The ground beef started to burn, she lowered the heat. “We’re all going to Skype you after dinner.”
Merry moaned. “My daughter’s involved?”
“I know it’s not ideal,” Viv said, thinking of Tilly’s picture. “But we’re trying to save your kids more heartbreak.”
“Viv, I’m scared. Tell me we’re doing the right thing.”
She switched off the stove and went and sat down. “We’re doing it for the right reasons.” Who was she reassuring here? “And Charlie’s got enough to cope with right now.” They’d passed the point of no return. “Which reminds me…he ended it with Susan last night.”
Stunned silence. “You’re kidding. Really?” Merry laughed, then immediately sobered. “You’re not joking, are you, because this is—”
“It’s true. Susan dropped the bomb this morning. Apparently, he regrets leaping into another relationship, told her he’s not ready. Did you know Charlie never slept with her?” Not by choice, Viv suspected, but that was beside the point.
“No…gosh…that’s the last thing I’d ask either of them.” Merry laughed again, with the same giddy lilt of their childhood. “How on earth did you find that out?”
Viv opened her mouth, closed it. Harry brooom-brooomed an engine over her feet.
Fortunately, her twin didn’t wait for an answer. “Well, then we definitely can’t tell him the truth now. Viv, I never dared hope…” Merry’s voice tripped over itself in her excitement. “You saw how gorgeous she was, didn’t you?”
“Totally gorgeous…and the boobs, Mere.” Both sisters sighed.
“And so nice,” her sister continued. “I tried to hate her but—”
“You couldn’t.”
“I even had them getting married…in my mind…but this! If Charlie can walk away from a woman like Susan then maybe he’s not over me. Maybe—”
“Don’t get your hopes up,” Viv warned. “I hate to be the voice of reason but he could change his mind again. He’s all over the place right now. Besides, you have choices, too.” Briefly, she considered putting this delicately. “Would you really want that asshole back, after the way he’s overreacted?”
“It was all my fault.”
“Don’t talk like that You’re human, Mere, you can make mistakes.”
“No, you do that. I’m the sensible one. I should have seen the kiss coming.”
You’re this. I’m that. The personality straitjacket. “These things don’t knock on the door and announce themselves.” Viv steered the conversation to less dangerous waters. “Where’s the recipe for your raspberry chocolate angel food cake? Tilly wants to make Nana Lin’s favorite for the post-funeral reception. It’s being held here, by the way.”
“You’re hosting it at my house?”
Viv explained Ross’s truce ultimatum and waited for sympathy. “What else did you get yourself into?” Merry said.
“Nothing,” she said irritably, “I was very careful. I even made sure you didn’t sing in the choir before I agreed to organize it for the funeral. So what do you do with the singers exactly? Hold the hymns? Organize the organist?” Definitely low blood sugar. She was getting silly.
“I conduct it,” said Merry. “And I know I mentioned that on the phone six months ago when I volunteered!”
Viv started to laugh, then stuck a knuckle in her mouth and bit hard. Hold it together, one of us has to. “I’ll feign an injury…put a sling on.”
“And then I show up with a broken leg and a bound wrist? Why don’t we just mummify me and be done with it.”
Viv laughed again, letting the hysteria take over. Because this really was very funny. Harry poked his head out from under the table and laughed with her.
“Look, it’s okay,” Merry said quickly. “Don’t panic, I’ll teach you. Two songs in, what thirty-six hours? It’ll be easy. We’ll practice over Skype. And I’ll send you some links. You can do this, Viv. Okay?”
Tilly came in, wrinkling her nose. “I smell onion. I don’t eat onion.”
“Of course you don’t” said Viv, still smiling. “That would be too easy.”
“Okay, Viv?” Merry repeated more urgently.
She looked around at her smelly nephew needing a bath, at the half-cooked dinner full of onions. She still needed to learn the rules of soccer for Tilly’s training session tomorrow. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath. “Okay.”