Authors: Barbara Colley
Polished Off (19 page)
And that’s the end of that subject, thought Charlotte, as she selected one of the smaller tea cakes. Hoping it didn’t contain too much sugar, she took a small bite, but as she chewed, out of the blue, an idea began to form, and she surreptitiously glanced at her watch. If she left now, she might have just enough time to run by Jane Calhoun’s before she had to pick up Davy.
Ordinarily she would never consider just dropping in on someone without calling ahead first, but the gut feeling that time was of essence just wouldn’t go away. On the other hand, if she left now, the professor might get her feelings hurt over such a short visit.
What to do? What to do?
“Mm, these are delicious,” Charlotte murmured, wondering what kind of excuse she could use to leave right away. Then the perfect pretext came to her. Even as the half-lie took form, the tiny voice of her conscience cried out,
Liar, liar, pants on fire. First gossiping about a client, and now lying. Shame on you.
“Mm, these are delicious,” Charlotte murmured, wondering what kind of excuse she could use to leave right away. Then the perfect pretext came to her. Even as the half-lie took form, the tiny voice of her conscience cried out,
Liar, liar, pants on fire. First gossiping about a client, and now lying. Shame on you.
Though Charlotte cringed inside, she swallowed hard and ignored the nagging voice in her head. She made a show of holding out her left arm to check her watch. “My goodness, just look at the time,” she said. “I almost forgot. I really hate to, but I’m going to have to leave. Daniel’s little stepson is staying with me, and I have to pick him up at day-care.”
Hoping the professor wouldn’t notice, as Charlotte leaned forward to place her cup back onto the tray, she slipped the rest of the uneaten tea cake into her pocket, then stood.
The professor stood, too. “Oh, that’s so nice.” She sighed. “A little boy in the house must be lots of fun. But here—wait a second.” She scooped up the plate of tea cakes. “Boys are always hungry, so let me just wrap a few of these in some foil for you to take with you.”
Minutes later the professor returned with the foil package of tea cakes. When she handed them over to Charlotte, she tilted her head and smiled. “Tell you what, Charlotte. Why don’t I give Jane a call for you and let her know you’re coming?”
Charlotte’s cheeks suddenly felt as if they were on fire, but, then, she shouldn’t have been surprised. The professor had always been far more intuitive than her students had given her credit for.
Charlotte wanted to thank her old friend, but the words stuck in her throat and all she could do was nod.
Chapter Thirteen
C
harlotte’s cheeks were still warm with embarrassment when she pulled into Jane Calhoun’s driveway. How could she have forgotten just how astute and forthright the professor could be—and how unselfish and giving?
harlotte’s cheeks were still warm with embarrassment when she pulled into Jane Calhoun’s driveway. How could she have forgotten just how astute and forthright the professor could be—and how unselfish and giving?
Not only had the professor phoned Jane to let her know that Charlotte needed to talk to her, but she’d paved the way by taking the time to explain exactly why Charlotte needed to talk to her.
Jane and Glen Calhoun’s home was what was commonly referred to as a transitional-style house, a combination of the Greek Revival and the Italianate styles. The double-galleried house, along with its perfectly manicured gardens, was set back from the street and surrounded by a cast-iron fence designed in a rare cornstalk pattern.
Just as Charlotte entered through the gate of the elegant fence, the front door swung open. Jane Calhoun, a tall, slender woman in her mid-fifties, stood in the doorway with a smile on her face. “This is such a pleasant surprise,” she called out. “It’s been ages since we talked, and it’s really good to see you again, Charlotte. I just wish it were under better circumstances. Come on in.”
Charlotte returned the smile as she climbed the steps. “Considering the reason for my visit, it’s very gracious of you to agree to see me on such short notice.”
Jane stood back to allow Charlotte entry. “Don’t be silly, Charlotte. We’re old friends.”
Once inside, Jane directed Charlotte to the formal sitting room. “I don’t know how much I can help, but I’m more than happy to do what I can for Daniel.” She motioned for Charlotte to sit on the sofa. “You may not know this, but Daniel helped me out of quite a bind two years ago.”
“He did?” Charlotte eased down onto the sofa and shook her head. “I guess I didn’t realize that you even knew my nephew.”
Jane sat in a chair opposite Charlotte. “Oh my, yes. He got me out of a really sticky situation. I was having some work done on the house, and one of the contractors fell off a ladder—well, he didn’t really fall—but anyway, he claimed he did, claimed he hurt his back. He was making all kinds of noises about suing me but offered to settle privately. Said if I just paid him outright, he wouldn’t drag me into court.
“Well, a neighbor recommended I talk to Daniel, and within a week that contractor was singing a different tune. Come to find out, I wasn’t the only client he’d pulled that on. Daniel did some checking around and found out that he had a scam going, and once Daniel confronted him, the man—”
Suddenly distracted, Jane glanced toward the doorway. “Oh, hello, honey.”
Charlotte turned to see a tall, muscular man leaning heavily on a cane. The left side of his face and his throat were still scarred in spite of the extensive reconstructive surgery he’d gone through, and his left arm, totally useless since his accident, rested in a sling.
Jane stood and walked over to where he was standing. “You remember Charlotte, don’t you, dear?”
He gave Charlotte a lopsided grin and nodded.
Jane patted him on the back. “It’s not quite time for your walk yet, honey. Is there something else that you need?”
Glen Calhoun replied, but his response was too soft and garbled for Charlotte to understand.
Evidently, Jane had no problem understanding him, though. She turned to Charlotte. “Would you excuse me a moment?”
Within a few minutes Jane returned. “Sorry about that,” she said as she seated herself. “Poor thing, he’s made a lot of progress, but he still needs assistance at times doing certain things.”
“He looks well,” Charlotte commented. “A lot better than the last time I saw him.”
Jane nodded. “He has good days and bad days still, but for the most part, he’s adjusted as well as could be expected.”
“And you? Have you adjusted?”
“I’ll admit I was pretty bitter for a while there.” Jane paused. Then her eyes crinkled and she smiled. “But with a little help from Father Thomas and the support of some really good friends, I think I’ve adjusted pretty well for a spoiled-rotten socialite. And speaking of spoiled socialites”—her smile faded—“Professor Mac said you needed some information on Patsy Duhe.” Her voice took on a wistful tone. “You know, once upon a time, Patsy and I were really good friends, but...” Her voice trailed away. “Not anymore,” she finally murmured. “Patsy’s a prime example of what bitterness can do to a person. Such a shame, a crying shame. But, as the old saying goes, ‘there but for the grace of God go I.’ ”
Funny, Charlotte thought. She’d never really thought of Patsy as being bitter or spoiled. A bit odd, yes. And maybe a little spoiled. But bitter? “I take it that her bitterness has something to do with Lowell Webster.”
Jane nodded. “Of course, that’s only my opinion. But Lowell was the love of her life, or so she thought. They met at school—sat beside each other in Professor Mac’s class. Patsy fell head over heels in love with him almost from the moment she laid eyes on him. He wasn’t exactly my ideal, but for Patsy he was everything she wanted in a man—handsome, intelligent, attentive, and wealthy, or so she thought.
“The one thing she didn’t know was that he was also an accomplished liar. He’d presented himself as the only son of wealthy parents who lived abroad when all along he was nothing more than a scheming opportunist, just a dirt-poor boy from the wrong side of the tracks who was there on loans and a work scholarship. But Patsy represented everything he wanted for the moment.” Jane motioned with her hands. “Wealth, acceptance in the right social circles—that kind of stuff. Plain and simple, he used her. From the beginning, he never had any intentions of the relationship being permanent. Marriage didn’t fit into his plans—at least not right then. And neither did a baby.”
“A baby?” Charlotte whispered. “Patsy had a baby?”
“Patsy got pregnant,” Jane corrected. “It was the happiest I’d ever seen her, for a while anyway. Unfortunately, Lowell didn’t feel the same. When she told him about the pregnancy, instead of asking her to marry him as she had hoped, he insisted that she get an abortion.”
Charlotte gasped, unable to believe her ears. “That must have been horrible for her.”
“Yes it was, but that’s not the worst of it. For weeks Patsy refused to believe that he really meant it. She kept making excuses for him and hoping that he would change his mind once he got used to the idea.” Jane shook her head. “He didn’t. And in the end, she finally agreed. By the time that she realized he’d never intended on marrying her in the first place and that he’d just been using her to make society connections, it was almost too late, though.”
Charlotte stiffened and a chill ran through her. “She had an abortion?”
Jane shrugged. “What choice did she have?”
Choice?
Charlotte forced herself to swallow the sharp retort that was on the tip of her tongue, and she slowly counted to ten instead.
Charlotte forced herself to swallow the sharp retort that was on the tip of her tongue, and she slowly counted to ten instead.
Once upon a time, she, too, had been faced with a similar situation. She had once found herself unmarried and pregnant. The only difference was that Charlotte knew that the love of her life would have wanted their baby—if
he’d
had a choice. Unfortunately for both of them, Vietnam had taken away his choices about anything, along with his life. Even so, the thought of aborting her baby had never once entered her mind. She’d as soon have torn out her heart.
he’d
had a choice. Unfortunately for both of them, Vietnam had taken away his choices about anything, along with his life. Even so, the thought of aborting her baby had never once entered her mind. She’d as soon have torn out her heart.
“When Patsy did finally relent,” Jane continued, “the so-called doctor that Lowell found to perform the abortion botched it and botched it good.” Jane visibly shuddered. “Patsy almost hemorrhaged to death,” she whispered. “And then infection set in.” She cleared her throat. “As a result, once she recovered she learned that she would never be able to conceive another child.” Jane paused and sighed heavily. “That’s when the bitterness set in. That’s when she swore that one day Lowell would pay for what he’d done to her.”
After Charlotte left Jane Calhoun’s, Jane’s revelations about Patsy and Lowell were all she could think about. She could understand Patsy being bitter, and she could even understand her blaming Lowell—but only up to a point. After all, no one had put a gun to her head and forced her to sleep with Lowell in the first place. And in spite of Jane’s belief that Patsy didn’t have a choice about the abortion, Charlotte disagreed. It was true that Patsy didn’t have an easy choice, but she’d had a choice. She could have chosen life, life for her baby, whether it was with her or with one of the many eager couples who would have gladly given the baby a loving home through adoption.
That’s when the bitterness set in. That’s when she swore that one day Lowell would pay for what he’d done to her.
Jane’s words played through Charlotte’s mind as she pulled alongside the curb in front of Loving Care Day-Care. For long moments she sat staring straight ahead.
Jane’s words played through Charlotte’s mind as she pulled alongside the curb in front of Loving Care Day-Care. For long moments she sat staring straight ahead.
Thirty years was a long time. Was it possible for a person to hold on to bitterness for that length of time?
Possible? Yes
, came the answer.
The same way it’s possible for you to still love a man who’s been dead for over forty years.
, came the answer.
The same way it’s possible for you to still love a man who’s been dead for over forty years.
So, if that was possible, then, logically, it stood to reason that Patsy could have been simply biding her time, waiting for the perfect opportunity to pay Lowell back.
And what of Lowell? If what Jane said about him was true, and Charlotte had no reason to doubt that it was, then Lowell Webster was the worst kind of liar and a far cry from the pillar of society that most people believed him to be.
If his own flesh and blood had meant so little to him that he could ruthlessly dispose of it without a qualm, how much less would someone mean to him that he thought might be a threat to his ambitions? Someone like Ricco.
For most of her life, Charlotte had unfailingly adhered to the philosophy that there were two sides to every story.
Judge not lest you be judged
. So, did Lowell have a side? she wondered as she slowly climbed out of the van. Had there been circumstances that could possibly explain his actions or motivations involving Patsy? Charlotte couldn’t see how; still, anything was possible. But how on earth could she find out for sure?
Judge not lest you be judged
. So, did Lowell have a side? she wondered as she slowly climbed out of the van. Had there been circumstances that could possibly explain his actions or motivations involving Patsy? Charlotte couldn’t see how; still, anything was possible. But how on earth could she find out for sure?
Charlotte climbed the steps to the porch. In the past, she’d always considered herself a pretty good judge of character. Until the Dubuissons.
But that was different
, she argued with herself. With the Dubuissons she had become personally involved with the family, whereas she had never even met Lowell Webster. Since she didn’t know the man, it stood to reason that she should be able to be objective about him.
, she argued with herself. With the Dubuissons she had become personally involved with the family, whereas she had never even met Lowell Webster. Since she didn’t know the man, it stood to reason that she should be able to be objective about him.
If only she could figure out some way to make contact with him or be around him, she felt sure she could learn more about him. Just simple observation could sometimes tell you a lot about a person. But how on earth could she, a mere maid, hope to make contact with him? After all, they certainly didn’t travel in the same social circles.
Chapter Fourteen
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