Shaded Light: The Case of the Tactless Trophy Wife: A Paul Manziuk and Jacquie Ryan Mystery (The Manziuk and Ryan Mysteries Book 1) (11 page)

Jillian laughed. “You wouldn’t by any chance be the black sheep of the family, would you, Mr. Brodie?”

Bart smiled. “How astute of you, Mrs. Martin.”

“Jillian.”

Ellen relaxed. It looked as though Bart would be able to keep Jillian amused. Now if she only knew what to do with the sister.

Nick lounged in a small bay window. His hands idly fingered a small object he had absent-mindedly pulled from his pocket.

“You look bored,” Kendall said as he sat down in a near-by chair.

Nick started. “What?”

“What are you thinking about? How you’d like to own a place like this? If you joined the firm, someday you could.”

“No, actually, that’s not it at all. I was thinking about fate.”

Kendall’s eyebrows rose. “Fate?”

“Yeah. Like—oh, I guess whether things happen by chance or not.”

Kendall’s voice registered the astonishment that showed in his face. “What on earth has got you talking like that?”

Nick laughed and put the trinket back into his pocket. “I don’t know. You, I guess, with all your talk about making decisions and having to live with them. It’s not nearly as easy as you make it sound. And if you choose wrong, what do you do? Can you ever go back and start over, or do you have to go on from where you are?”

“‘Two roads diverged in a yellow wood…’” Kendall quoted.

“Yeah. Do we really have a choice, or is it all fate?”

“You’ve got me. But I don’t think you need to spend too much time thinking about joining the firm. It’s obvious which is the right choice here.”

“‘And I—’” Nick finished the quotation, “‘I took the road less traveled by…’”

Since they were to be roommates, Lorry thought it fell on her to do what she could to make Shauna comfortable. But she quickly found that drawing the older girl out was not going to be easy. If Shauna had had a shell, she would probably have been huddled inside. As it was, she was doing her best to disappear into the large chair in which she was sitting.

“I guess we’re going to be roommates for the weekend,” Lorry said with a smile.

“Yes.”

“You’re Jillian’s older sister?”

“Yes.”

“Do you live in Toronto, too?”

“No.”

“Outside of the city?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have an apartment?”

“I live at home.”

“Oh, that must be, er, interesting. With your parents?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have other sisters or brothers?”

“Three sisters. Besides Jillian.”

“Are they at home, too?”

“Yes. They’re in school.”

“Oh. Do you work?”

“At the library.”

Even though she appeared to be engrossed by Bart, Jillian must have been listening to at least part of her sister’s conversation, because she suddenly swiveled in her chair and said, “Oh, for goodness sake, Shauna, the girl is only trying to be polite. If you could hear yourself! A moron could talk better!”

Shauna looked down at her hands, folded in her lap, but she said nothing. There was a moment of uncomfortable silence.

It was broken by the sound of a chime echoing through the house.

Kendall jumped up. “I’ll get it.”

Ellen started slightly. Who could it be at this hour? She sought for something that had slipped her mind. Something she had forgotten. Oh, no. She had completely forgotten about Hildy!

“I don’t believe I mentioned it, but there’s to be one more guest for the weekend. A friend of mine. Well, not a friend exactly. Someone I know reasonably well. We’re in a club together—oh, here she is now. Everyone, this is Hildy Reimer.”

But no one was looking at Hildy. Instead, they were staring at Jillian, who had suddenly burst into laughter. “I don’t believe it!” she said at last. “Who invited the wicked witch of the East? Or did you invite yourself? I always thought you had a lot of nerve, Hildy darling.”

FOUR

As if by premonition, Peter chose that moment to come in from the den.

“Shut up, Jill.” He turned to the other woman. “Hildy, what the devil are you doing here?”

The attractive woman with short, black, blunt-cut hair and a deceptively simple gray silk suit with an ice pink blouse stepped forward. “Hello, Peter,” she said evenly. “I’m having my apartment redecorated, and I needed to get away. I certainly didn’t expect to meet you here.”

He took the hand she offered and held it briefly.

Jillian stood and walked insolently toward the older woman. “Come to spy on us? And did you think you’d be welcome?”

“Jillian, cool it!” her husband ordered.

Jillian laughed, turned her back on Hildy, and sat down on the arm of Bart’s chair.

Peter radiated embarrassment. “I guess we’d better get this over with. Hildy is my former wife. My second wife. I had no idea…” His voice trailed off and he glanced at Ellen.

“I had no idea she was your ex-wife,” Ellen glanced apologetically at Hildy. “If I had, I certainly wouldn’t—I mean, I would—I mean— Oh, dear.”

“It’s perfectly all right, Ellen,” Hildy said. “I’ll just go to a hotel. I should have done so, anyway.”

“Don’t go on my account,” Peter said. “We’re still friends, aren’t we?”

“Don’t go on my account, either,” Jillian drawled as she leaned close to Bart so he could light another cigarette for her. “This is all terribly amusing. Did you know Peter still has your picture in his desk? Perhaps we could compare notes?”

Neither Hildy nor Peter spoke.

Ellen filled the gap. “Kendall, would you take Hildy’s luggage to her room, please? The blue one next to yours. Hildy, may I get you something? A drink, perhaps?” The two women moved away from the others.

Jillian continued to lean close to Bart. “The nerve of her,” she said softly.

“Maybe Peter likes women with nerve.”

“Meaning?” she dared.

“Don’t worry. I like women with nerve, too.”

“You do, huh?” The fingers holding her cigarette touched the back of his hand lightly. “And how many ex-wives do you have in your closet?”

“None. When I get tired of them, I drown them in a lake. Tidier that way. No loose ends to walk in and surprise me.”

She laughed, a throaty chuckle that carried across the room to where Ellen and Hildy were talking while Hildy finished her drink.

Hildy set down the drink and said she’d like to go to her room and unpack.

“Oh, certainly,” Ellen said. “I’ll take you up.” They left the room and Jillian’s laughter followed them into the hallway. “I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I am,” Ellen apologized. “I had no idea you even knew Peter. Or any of them. You could have knocked me over with a feather when Jillian said those dreadful things.”

“Jillian is a dreadful young woman. What Peter sees in her is completely beyond me.”

“Well, yes, I do sometimes wonder, but, then, it’s none of my business.”

“Nor mine, I suppose. Although I hate to see anyone made a fool of, even Peter.”

“Oh, I suppose he can look after himself,” Ellen replied uncomfortably.

“Sure, he can. In a courtroom. But in the bedroom? Not a chance.”

The subject of the women’s conversation was seated on a stool at the bar, which occupied the east wall of the games room, wondering aloud at the luck of attending a house party with a wife and ex-wife. “Oh, well,” he said finally, “I suppose they’ll manage. Hildy’s the most level-headed woman I know, and Jillian… well, she may be young, but boy, she won’t let anybody get the best of her. Not my Jillian!” He finished with a note which George took as amused pride.

Douglass coughed.

George poured three double Scotches. “I understand it’s going to be sunny tomorrow,” he said. “Should be a good chance for some tennis in the morning before it’s too hot. I hope some of you play tennis?”

In the living room, Nick had moved over to sit with Lorry and Shauna, and they were talking about Shauna’s job and what it was like living at home when you were twenty-seven and had three teenage sisters around. Lorry was amazed at how voluble Shauna had become. Nick’s moving over and taking an interest in the conversation seemed to have worked like magic.

But at the same time, Lorry decided Nick was bored. For the last ten minutes, his hands had been fidgeting with a chess piece he had picked up somewhere.

When Kendall came back from carrying Hildy’s suitcase and suggested drinks, Nick half-rose from his chair. Jillian and Bart also rose, but Anne said, “Nothing for me. I think I’ll just go to my room and freshen up.”

Nick sat back down and looked at Lorry. “Do you two want drinks?”

“I
don’t
,” Shauna said.

“Don’t what?” Nick asked.

“Don’t drink.”

Nick’s eyebrows rose. “What? Not anything?”

“Not anything, oh, you know, with alcohol.” Her words began to rush. “I know it sounds silly and people think I’m weird. Jillian says it’s stupid of me. But, well, I’ll tell you. You see, our father drinks. Too much, I mean. And when he’s been drinking, he acts like such a fool. I don’t ever want to be like that. So I thought if I never drank at all, then I’d never get to liking it and I’d never act like he does.” She looked down at her feet. “I guess you think I’m an idiot, too.”

“Well, I can’t very well think that,” Lorry said, “because I don’t drink alcohol either.”

Shauna looked up. “You don’t?”

“Nope. I just decided I didn’t want to. But I wouldn’t mind a Coke or something. Do you think they’d have that, Nick?”

Nick had been watching Lorry as she spoke. He had stopped smiling and his voice was serious as he said, “Yes, I expect they do. Should I go and see, or do you want to come?”

Finding unexpected support, Shauna felt brave. “Let’s all go. I’d love to see the rest of the house. It’s like something in a book.”

Ellen watched Nick come into the games room with the two young women. Somehow, her matchmaking had gone astray. Why was Lorry with Nick? And where was Kendall? She looked around and saw him getting drinks for Bart and Jillian. Being a good host. But she was annoyed. He didn’t need to look after them. It was Lorry he should be taking care of.

As she watched, Kendall left the room. Now where was he going? Everyone else was here, except—she looked around the room, mentally clicking off names—Anne was missing. Not surprising. She hadn’t looked particularly well at supper. And she seemed nervous. Or even afraid. Ellen mentally shook her head. Of all the silly ideas. She had to stop watching those soap operas in the afternoon. She was starting to imagine everyone was living in intrigue.

Nick had found a soft drink bottle and was pouring its contents into a couple of glasses, and he and Lorry were laughing about something.

Ellen walked over to Shauna. “Did you want something to drink?” she asked. “Oh, you’ve been taken care of,” she said as Nick handed Shauna a glass. “Not that I drink much myself, you know. One will do me all night. Just to be sociable. The truth is I’ve never really learned to like the taste. Now, Bart,” she said, noticing him standing alone by a window, “he can drink gallons of the stuff. Can’t you, Bart? And no one would ever know. So George says, anyway.”

Thus addressed, Bart came over.

Ellen continued, “Whenever you’ve been here, George has either complained about the expense of having you around or else admired the way you can drink so much without even walking unsteadily. However do you do it?”

Shauna stared at the floor. Bart gave Ellen a bored look and then, having read Shauna’s mind perfectly, said, “I know you really don’t want to listen to my aunt’s rather fabulous tales of my consumptive powers. Would you like to get a breath of fresh air instead?”

Startled, Shauna stammered, “I—oh, no—that is—I—”

“Why don’t we go out this way?” Bart took her elbow and smoothly guided her through the patio doors onto the terrace, and then past the pool into the rose garden, which was lit by a multitude of small indirect lights.

As she saw the garden for the first time, her shyness dropped away. “Oh, how lovely!” she exclaimed. Ignoring Bart, she ran ahead. “It’s like a fairyland!”