June and Myrna pecked cheeks, then Myrna stepped back and said to Jim, “Now, let me look at you.” She gave him a study that was almost roguish for a little old lady. “My yes, you’re certainly attractive enough for my niece. But are you rich enough?”
“Auntie!”
“I have barely two nickels to rub together, but I plan to earn my keep.”
“Ah, I see. So you’ve already struck a bargain, have you?”
“I promised her that I would do anything she asked.”
June lifted a single brow and regarded him dubiously. When had he promised that?
“Then I hope she’s begun a list to keep you busy a long, long time. Now, come into the sitting room and I’ll have the girls bring us some refreshments. Endeara, snap out of it,” Myrna demanded. “Amelia, get a grip!”
The twins disappeared huffily, both taking refuge in the kitchen.
“And if I hear one bicker out of either of you, you’ll never get another favor out of me. Do you hear?” There was subdued grumbling, clearly from both of them.
Myrna hooked her arms into June’s and Jim’s and led them to the sitting room. “I thought this might be a bad idea, but I was in a fix, you see. When Endeara came to work this morning I told her that you’d be bringing your gentleman over to meet me. Well, she took on this superior air. She thought she was going to have one over on her sister.” Myrna looked up at Jim and explained, “All the two of them have done all their lives is argue and spit at each other, which is why I’ll only have one of them at a time, unless there’s an urgent need for both. And don’t I pay the price when that happens!”
When they reached the sitting room, she pointed them to their chairs and took the settee across from them in the middle. “But there I was, with Endeara thinking she had the advantage. So I was forced to call Amelia and tell her that if she could behave herself, she might come and have a look at you, too.” She smiled like the rascal she was. “I do believe they approved.
“Now!” she said, clapping her hands together. “Tell me all about yourself!”
So came the story—in brief.
“And your people?” Myrna asked.
“I have a married sister in the Midwest. She has a couple of teenagers and she has been bossing me around all my life.”
“Ah, you’re close.”
He shrugged. “I suppose, though we don’t see too much of each other.”
“And how many times have you been married?”
“Never,” he said.
“Engaged?”
“Not even engaged.”
“Then what makes you think you can marry my June and be a sufficient husband to her? You’re rather old, after all.”
June rolled her eyes. She had known it was going to be at least this bad.
Jim leaned toward Myrna, resting his elbows on his knees. “And if I’d said I’d been married once and was divorced?”
“I’d ask what makes you think you’ve got it right now?”
“If I’d been married and divorced three times?”
“A mighty bad track record, don’t you agree?”
He leaned back, laughing. “You’re impossible to please, aren’t you, Mrs. Claypool?”
“Probably,” she said good-naturedly. “Lucky for you, then, that you don’t have to worry about pleasing me. Isn’t it?”
“Indeed,” he agreed.
She let her eyes gently close with the nod of her head. “Do you play poker, Mr. Post?”
“I never have,” he lied, “but I’d be willing to let you teach me.”
She laughed a little too gleefully and glanced at June. “He’s a live one. Good job, June.”
At that moment Endeara came into the room bearing a tray of champagne glasses and a small bowl of strawberries. Behind her trailed Amelia, holding a large bottle of chilled champagne.
“You’d better bring me tea, Endeara. On top of everything else, I’m pregnant.” Endeara nearly dropped the tray of crystal and managed to set it down on the tea table in front of Myrna just in the nick of time. Amelia hung on to the champagne bottle by its neck and covered her open mouth with the other hand.
“Gracious,” Myrna said. “I didn’t ask the right questions after all. Jim, would you be so kind as to open the bottle for Amelia? And Endeara, tea for my niece?”
When they left the room again, Myrna said to June, “I hope you don’t intend for them to keep it secret? It’s impossible, I assure you.”
“Don’t worry, Auntie. Thanks to my father, the whole town knows. And I only told him last week.” The cork made a loud pop as it came out. “I was just getting around to telling you when Jim appeared. I hadn’t expected him to arrive so soon.”
“It seems a good thing he has appeared. Tell me something, dearest. How have you kept him secret so well?”
“Well, Auntie, I haven’t seen as much of him as I would have liked, as he’s been working out of state. I knew he’d be retiring in a few months and then I planned to spring him on the family and the town. In the meantime, though, I guess I just didn’t want to share.”
Jim poured champagne into two of the glasses. “And I didn’t want to be shared,” he said.
“I don’t know how you did it,” Myrna said, lifting one of the glasses. “Not with the hours you keep and the way people keep letting themselves into your house when they want to see a doctor. Well, here’s to you, June. The master of deceit.” She took a little sip. “And a baby, too?”
“We had so little time together, I can’t imagine how that happened,” June said, genuinely perplexed. “But I’ll make a confession. Had I known this was going to happen, I’d have introduced Jim around a while ago. It must look to everyone like I jumped into bed with him the second we met. It wasn’t quite that way,” she said. But it was close.
“I have something for you,” Myrna said. “Just the thing. Sit still.”
She dashed out of the room excitedly, as quickly as an eighty-four-year-old woman can dash, leaving Jim and June to stare at each other. June whispered, “How are you holding up?”
“I think I’ll survive. Your aunt is a kick. Hell, your town is a kick. It doesn’t look like I’m going to be bored.”
“You have anything to keep you busy, like knitting?” She was answered with a frown. “There’s a lot I need to learn about you.” Endeara brought her tea on a tray with a basket of tiny crackers.
Jim patted her knee. “Fortunately there’s plenty of time,” he said. June sipped her tea. “And I’m not holding anything back,” he whispered.
The tea wasn’t hot and it had a funny taste. The twins didn’t usually screw up tea, which made her very suspect of the ingredients. She didn’t hear exactly what Jim said, but the combination of his warm breath in her ear and tea that tasted strangely like dishwater made her stomach turn over. She set the cup down on the cocktail table and grew pale.
“Are you all right?” Jim asked.
“I’m not sure. A wave of… The worst… Funny, you’d think I’d get used to this.”
“What?”
Her hand went to her stomach. “The totally unpredictable lurching of my stomach.” She grimaced. “Out of the blue, for no reason at all, I’ll be just overcome with…” She made a face and swallowed convulsively.
“The fact that I’ve been whispering in your ear that you can get to know as much of me as you like hasn’t made you sick to your stomach, has it?” he asked, half joking.
“Of course not,” she said, but she spoke with difficulty. This had happened to her a number of times, this queer and sudden sickness, but if she waited it out it would pass. She hadn’t yet thrown up during this pregnancy. “I just need to be still and quiet. For a second or two.”
“Amazing,” he said. “You can deliver a baby without flinching, but a cup of tea in your aunt’s sitting room has you green at the gills.”
“Shh,” she said, patting her tummy gently and closing her eyes. Pass, she commanded the feeling. Pass.
“J
ust so long as you swear it isn’t the thought of marrying me that’s making you nauseous,” he gibed.
“You’re looking for trouble,” she said through gritted teeth.
“Okay,” he chuckled. He sipped his champagne and tapped his fingers on his knee. He looked around the ornate, overcrowded antique room while June took deep, slow breaths in through her nose, out through her mouth. He smiled at her, though she couldn’t see. Even as she struggled with pregnancy-induced stomach upset, he found her compellingly beautiful.
The sound of Myrna’s heels on the floor announced her return. “Here it is!” she said cheerfully. Myrna stood before them, holding a dress hanger high above her head. Flowing down to the floor, sheathed in thick, clear plastic, was a wedding gown. “I’ve saved this for you all these years, dear,” she said. “Now you can get married in your mother’s dress!”
An odd, strangled sound came from June. She turned away from her aunt and Jim and promptly threw up on the rug.
Over the years June had had patients tell her that with morning sickness, unlike food poisoning, the flu or any other nausea-producing condition, the second it was over, it was completely over. Just a few moments before she had struggled with a biting, churning illness that caused her to pinch her eyes closed, grit her teeth and pray. But once released, she took a couple of deep breaths and voilà, she felt like jogging. Jogging to the kitchen to make something to eat, in fact. It was nothing short of miraculous. Under no other circumstances but pregnancy did stomach upset resolve itself so efficiently.
Except for the humiliation of it. “Oh, God! Auntie, I’m so-o sorry!”
“Well, I’m sure you didn’t do it on purpose,” Myrna said weakly.
Endeara first peeked, then rushed from the kitchen with a cool, damp cloth. June rejected it. “Seriously, I feel absolutely fine now. As if I never felt ill. Except, of course, I’m mortified. That’s never happened to me before.”
Amelia came running with a pail and rags. “Pregnancy is the strangest thing,” she was saying.
“Oh, please, Amelia, you must let me!” June insisted.
“Never mind,” Myrna said, draping the wedding gown over the back of a chair. “I think we’ll find the scenery in the sunroom more to our liking.” Myrna tsked and said quietly, “I do hope your mother wasn’t watching.”
June bit her lip. It was all a coincidence. Jim’s mention of marriage and the appearance of the wedding gown had not made her throw up.
“I should help clean up,” June said, but the twins would have none of it.
“You’ve tended enough sick people in your time,” Endeara said.
“You’ve earned some tending,” said Amelia.
The sunroom was next to Myrna’s office, across the hall from the kitchen. It was here that she retired from her writing every day at five to have her martini—a celebration of a good day’s work. The room was bright and airy and overlooked the Hudson House grounds which, under normal circumstances, boasted gardens, trees, vines and lawn, not to mention a view of the valley all the way to the coast. But at the moment it was a mess of compromised landscaping, holes and torn-up shrubs. Myrna sighed audibly as she entered the sunroom, then chose a seat that put her back to the yard.
“We’ll discuss the wedding another time,” Myrna said, more softly than was typical for her. “I’m very fond of this particular rug.”
“Aunt Myrna, the two things had nothing—”
“Of course, my darling. You just relax and take your time. You won’t be rushed by me. Why, I raised a child on my own, not a man in sight, if you’ll recall.” She looked rather wistfully at Jim. “However, had I one like…” Her voice trailed away.
Jim, however, was focused on the rubble outside the sun room. He frowned. “June told me the police did some digging out there,” he said.
“Some digging?” Myrna repeated. “They were looking for a body. The body of my late husband, Morton. That is, if he is late.” Then she smiled. “Don’t tell anyone I said so, but it wasn’t a completely ridiculous notion on the district attorney’s part. I’ve been writing such scenarios in my fiction for years, so they thought they were on to something. They don’t know how hard it is to be a writer, nor how difficult it is to be abandoned by your husband.”
June’s expression registered surprise at the remark. She’d never before heard her aunt express that particular sentiment, but she should have known that, even though Myrna never showed it, it certainly must have hurt.
“But that’s behind us now,” Myrna said.
“I’d be happy to help you put the yard right again,” Jim said.
“That’s very thoughtful, young man, but I plan to make the D.A. pay the freight on that. Though I don’t really blame them for the suspicion, one has to be accountable for one’s actions. And on that score, I’ve been seriously considering making a major change in my future themes.”
“Really?” June asked. “No more knocking off philandering husbands?”
“The whole idea has gotten a little stale, even if it has made me rich. I have Edward to thank for that, when it comes right down to it.”
“Edward?”
Myrna gave a veiled smile. “You aren’t the only woman in this family who’s had a secret man, although mine is considerably farther removed. Despite many attempts, we’ve never managed to meet in person.”
June scooted to the edge of her chair. “Who is this, Auntie?”
“A gentleman writer, an historian, to whom I’ve corresponded for nearly twenty years. I’ve written to a large number of writers over the years. It’s very common among our breed, since we work in solitude. But Edward has been quite constant. He began as a fan who was working on his very first book—an account of the Lewis and Clark expedition.”
Myrna rose and, without bothering to explain herself, went to her office and retrieved a book. She handed it to June. The Promised Trail by Edward Mortimer. June flipped to the back of the dust jacket. “No photo,” she said.
“Edward’s a tish older than me and very shy. He said he found himself faced with a choice between resurrecting his old army photo or demurring altogether.”
June closed the book and smiled at her aunt. “How is it you’ve never mentioned this…Edward?”
Myrna shrugged. “No particular reason. Or maybe there was. Maybe I didn’t want anyone to think me a silly old fool, because, as it happens, I’ve grown very fond of him over time.”
“I think that’s lovely,” June said.
“I ran the killer-wife idea by Edward and he went for it. Or maybe he ran it by me and I went for it, I can’t quite remember. He thought it was my best work, perhaps because I was so…so…furious when I wrote it. And it took off like a sky rocket. So he said, in his letter, ‘Don’t be silly, Myrna, do it again with a different twist. You’ve stumbled onto something your readers love.’ And, of course, I gave him advice as well. Writers tend to rely on each other for that kind of support.” She cleared her throat. “Edward is the only person I’ve ever confided in to that depth. I’m typically very private.”
“Is there any chance you’ll meet him in person?”
“I doubt it. Some years ago I drove all the way to Fresno where he was to appear at a library talk and book signing, and wouldn’t you know it, he was taken with an attack of gout and couldn’t get out of bed. I don’t mind travel a bit, but I can’t light out in that old Caddy for a five-hour drive at my age. It would be reckless!”
“Well, if you ever see the opportunity present itself again, you just let me know,” June said. “I’ll take you wherever it is.” She stood up. “I think we should go, Auntie. I’ve left John stranded for too long at the clinic.”
“But you’ll be back soon?”
June kissed her aunt’s crepey cheek. “And often.”
On the way back to town, Jim said, “You do want to get married, don’t you, June?”
“I think so,” she said.
“You think so?”
Her hand imme
diately protected her tummy. “Don’t snap at me. I’ve been single a long time!”
His eyes bored into her for a moment, though he should have been watching the road. Finally he spoke. “You’ve been pregnant a long time, too.”
Four
The people of Grace Valley were usually guilty of spreading gossip so fast that people would hear rumors about themselves before they had a chance to tell their own best friends. Like word of June having a secret man in her life, a baby on the way and no wedding date set—that news was all over town before she even had a chance to introduce Jim to her only aunt.
But there were times that word didn’t travel fast enough. News perhaps important enough to sound the alarm could sometimes sit like sludge and not move. Just such news was the presence of Conrad Davis in town when Jim had pointedly told him to scat. Jim was the only person who had been close enough to have gathered a sense—a professionally trained sense—that Conrad was bad news.
When Sam went to the gas station after breakfast at the café, he found Conrad and his laden truck. “Well, you didn’t get all that far, did you, son?” Sam asked in a friendly manner. “Problems with the truck?”
“No, sir,” Conrad said sweetly. He looked down and shuffled his feet. “I was taking the wife and kids down to Fresno where my cousin said he thought there was work, when she popped like a cork by the side of the road.” He raised his eyes and allowed a shy smile. “A boy. Thank God for that woman doctor.”
“Yep. She’s a peach.”
“So now I got the wife in the hospital and I need to get there, but…” He paused, thinking. He looked down again. “I don’t reckon it’d be safe to leave this truck full of stuff in the parking lot over there. I’d come out and find it all gone.”
Sam looked at the tied-down, sorry mess of household goods and personal belongings. Frankly, nothing in there looked worth burning, much less stealing—especially not that stained and bloodied mattress sticking out the back end. He lifted a white eyebrow.