She's Not There (6 page)

“I'll try to be home by then.”

“Grandma Mary is expecting us for dinner.”

“Oh, God.”

“I'm not going to be the one who has to explain to her why you aren't there.”

“I'll be there. I'll go, meet this girl, take the test, come home.”

“You really think it's going to be that easy?”

Caroline shrugged. “Please try to understand, sweetheart. I've spent the last fifteen years regretting one decision. I don't want to spend the next fifteen regretting another.”

Michelle sank down on the bed. A noise halfway between a sigh and a scoff escaped her throat.

“What?”

“I was just wondering if you'd be going to all this trouble if it had been me, and not Samantha, who'd disappeared that night.”

Caroline felt the words form a sword and pierce her heart. Instinctively, she reached for Michelle. “Oh, God. You can't really think…”

Michelle jumped to her feet, resumed her pacing. “It doesn't matter what I think, does it? You've proved that over and over. You proved it again tonight. My opinion doesn't matter. It never has. I don't know why I'm surprised. I should be used to it.” She turned and bolted from the room.

“Michelle!” Caroline raced after her daughter, following her down the hall and into her bedroom. She watched her pull an overnight bag out of her closet and toss it onto the green-and-white comforter on her bed. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I'm doing?” Michelle walked to her dresser, opened the top drawer, and threw a handful of undergarments into the bag. “A couple of days, you said?”

“What are you talking about?”

“One sweater should be enough.” She threw a navy wool turtleneck into the bag. “The jeans I'm wearing will be fine. And I have that ski jacket Dad bought me in Aspen last year. It should be in the closet downstairs. Hopefully Calgary won't be absolutely buried in snow.”

“Stop,” Caroline said, stilling her daughter's hands before she could add more items to the bag. “You can't come with me.”

“I can't? Why not?”

“Because…”

“You don't want me to come?”

“It's not that.”

“Then what is it?”

“You said it yourself. It's a crazy idea.
I'm
crazy.”

“All the more reason for me to go with you.”

“No.”

“Don't give me a hard time, Mother. ‘Whither thou goest,' and all that crap.”

“Michelle…Micki…”

“Give it up, Mother. It's not going to work this time. So what's it going to be? Are we going to Calgary tomorrow or not?”

Caroline saw the determined set of her daughter's jaw and the angry hurt in her eyes. She knew it was pointless to argue. “I'll book the tickets,” she said.

“D
id I tell you that Jerrod got us tickets for
Dance with the Devil
?” Rain said, casting her heavily blue-shadowed gaze around the table before bringing it to rest on Caroline.

“What's that?” Caroline asked, sneaking a glance in the direction of her suite and then at her watch. She put down her fork and pushed away what was left of her lobster dinner, which was most of it. She'd been too nervous to eat. It was almost time to check on the kids.

“They were fine when I checked on them thirty minutes ago,” Hunter whispered under his breath, his lips barely moving. “They're fine now. Finish your meal.”

“
Dance with the Devil
? It's only the hottest show on Broadway,” Rain said, answering the question Caroline had already forgotten she'd asked. “It's impossible to get tickets, especially on Thanksgiving weekend. But Superman here managed to do it.” She threw a proprietary arm across her husband's shoulders, causing her breasts to all but leap out of her dress.

“So you'll be spending Thanksgiving in New York,” Becky said. “Lucky you.”

Rain flashed her best veneer-enhanced smile. “What are you guys up to?”

“My mother always has Thanksgiving dinner at her place,” Steve said.

“You can just imagine how much I'm looking forward to that,” Becky said.

Steve glared at his wife. “Let's not start.”

“Stop looking at your watch,” Hunter told Caroline.

“You know what my darling mother-in-law said to me last Thanksgiving?” Becky said, continuing without waiting for a response. “She'd just been to a funeral and I made the mistake of asking how it had gone, and she said, and this is a direct quote: ‘It was a lovely affair. Her daughter selected a beautiful coffin. Much nicer than the one you had for
your
mother.' ”

There was a collective gasp from around the table.

Although not from Caroline, who was used to such remarks.

“I assure you she said no such thing,” Steve protested.

“That's exactly what she said.”

“You're exaggerating. As usual.”

“And you're defending her. As usual.”

“So, what are we all thankful for?” Peggy interrupted, a forced chirp in her voice. “Come on. Three things, not including health, family, or friends. We'll just assume you're thankful for those.”

“Never assume,” said Becky.

“Oh, this is fun,” Rain said, clapping her hands. “Can I start?”

Peggy opened the palms of her hands, indicating that Rain had the floor.

“Well, first, obviously, I'm thankful we'll be spending Thanksgiving in New York and not at some horrid family function, no offense intended.” Her smile drifted from Becky to Steve before ultimately landing on Caroline. “Second, I'm thankful for the new necklace Jerrod bought me.” She patted the impressive diamond sparkler at her throat. “And third, I'm thankful gray hair doesn't run in my family. Your turn,” she said to Caroline.

Caroline struggled to keep her hands away from her head. She'd never noticed any gray hairs, but then, she really hadn't been paying close attention. “I'm thankful for this past week,” she said, nodding toward her husband. “I'm thankful to be celebrating ten years of relative wedded bliss,” she continued, recalling her brother's words.

“What do you mean,
relative
?” Hunter asked, a mock frown on his lips.

“I'll drink to
relative,
” Jerrod said, raising his glass of champagne as the others followed suit, stretching their glasses toward one another in a congratulatory toast.

“Careful,” Rain warned. “You can't cross hands or it's bad luck.”

“Really? I've never heard that,” Becky said.

“Go on,” Peggy instructed Caroline. “One more thing you're thankful for.”

Caroline tried to come up with a third reason to be grateful other than family, health, and friends. Surely she could think of something. “I'm thankful for the ocean,” she said finally, glancing in its general direction.

“Seriously?” Rain asked.

“I'm thankful the San Diego real estate market is so strong,” Steve said, not waiting to be asked. “I'm thankful I was able to persuade Hunter to let us join you here in beautiful Rosarito to help you celebrate.” He glanced pointedly across the table at his wife. “I'm especially thankful that my mother is such a great cook.”

“You're so full of shit,” Becky said.

“Is our mother not a great cook?” Steve asked Caroline.

“Our mother is indeed a great cook,” Caroline agreed. “And you are also full of shit.”

Everybody laughed, although Steve's laugh was muted and his hazel eyes were as lifeless and hard as stones.

“Your turn, Becky,” Rain said.

“I'm sorry, everyone. I've had this terrible headache all afternoon, and it seems to be getting worse.” Tears clouded her eyes. She made no move to hide them or brush them aside. “If you'll excuse me,” she said, pushing back her chair and getting to her feet.

“Oh, sit down,” Steve said. “You're fine. Don't be such a prima donna.”

“Fuck you.” Becky turned and stomped away.

There was a moment of stunned silence.

“Shouldn't you go after her?” Fletcher asked Steve as he calmly finished off the last of his champagne.

“What—you think I'm as crazy as she is?”

“I should go check on the kids,” Caroline said, as eager to get away as Becky had been.

“Hurry back.” Hunter stood to kiss her cheek before she left.

“Oh. So sweet,” Caroline heard Rain say as she was walking away.

An elevator was waiting, its doors open, when Caroline reached the far side of the lobby. She stepped inside and pressed the button for the sixth floor. So far the evening had proved less than stellar: first the mix-up with the babysitter, then her guilt at leaving the kids alone, followed by her brother and sister-in-law's unpleasant bickering. That they no longer seemed to care who heard them was not a good sign. Caroline exited the elevator, doubting her brother's marriage would survive the year, let alone a decade.

She hurried down the long corridor, convinced with each step that she heard her children's anguished cries bouncing off the walls. But when she opened the door to her suite, she heard nothing except the reassuring hum of silence. She tiptoed into their bedroom, pausing in the doorway for her eyes to adjust to the dark, then moved toward Michelle's bed.

The child lay sleeping on her side, her mouth partly open, the covers bunched awkwardly around her waist, her Wonder Woman doll trapped inside their folds. Caroline carefully extricated the doll and drew the sheet up over her daughter's shoulders, depositing the doll on the pillow next to her head.
You're such an angel when you sleep,
she thought, fighting the urge to kiss her cheek.
If only you could save some of that sweetness for when you're awake.

She swiveled toward Samantha's crib and leaned over its side, a deep sigh escaping her lungs.

Samantha lay on her back, her little arms raised above her head and bent at the elbows, as if she had literally surrendered to sleep.
Hunter was right,
she thought.
I've been silly to worry.

The phone rang, its shrill sound a bayonet slicing through the stillness. Caroline bolted for the living room, grabbing the offending object before it could ring again and pressing it tight against her ear. “Hello?” She should have phoned the front desk, told them to hold all calls. What if the phone had rung when she wasn't around? What if it had woken up the children? What if they'd cried out for her? What if they'd panicked when she hadn't come running?

“Is this a bad time?” asked the voice on the other end. “You sound peculiar.”

“Mother?” Caroline could barely hear her own voice over the beating of her heart. She thought of the conversation at dinner and suppressed a shudder. Was it possible her mother had sensed they'd been talking about her? She'd always claimed to have eyes in the back of her head, and ears everywhere, that nothing ever escaped her. When Caroline was little, this thought used to terrify her. If she was being honest, it still did. “Is everything all right?”

“Do you care?”

“What do you mean? Of course I care.”

“Is that why I haven't heard from you all week?”

“Well, I…”

“I'm not complaining, you understand. Just stating facts. I know you're very busy partying. At least I have one child who is considerate of his mother's feelings.”

That's because he's still laboring under the misconception that you have any,
Caroline thought. “Steve's a good son,” she said. A good son and a lousy husband.

“Too bad you didn't have boys.”

Caroline almost laughed, remembering her mother's spontaneous outburst when she'd phoned from her hospital bed to tell her of Samantha's birth. “Another stinking girl!” her mother had exclaimed.

“I just called to wish you a happy anniversary,” she said now.

A wave of guilt swept over Caroline. She was being too hard on her mother. The woman wasn't going to change. It was up to Caroline to change the way she reacted to her. She had to be more generous, less judgmental. “Thank you.”

“I have to say I'm surprised. I thought Hunter would be bored to tears by now.”

This time Caroline did laugh, although the sound was muted and caught in her throat.
You can't make this stuff up,
she thought. “I'm sorry—are you saying I'm boring?”

“Don't put words in my mouth. Hunter just strikes me as the type of man who gets bored easily. Stop being so sensitive.”

“I should go, Mother. Everybody's wait—” The line went dead in Caroline's hands before she could finish the sentence. She shook her head and hung up, then immediately picked up the phone again and pressed the number for the front desk, telling them to hold all calls until further notice. She doubted there would be any more calls, but she couldn't take that chance. Her mother usually insisted on having the last word.

She did one final check on the girls before leaving the suite. Neither had been disturbed by her mother's call. “Just boring old me,” she said as she closed the door behind her and stepped into the hall. A waiter in a white jacket was walking toward her, wheeling a dinner cart. He stopped a few doors away from her and knocked. “Room service,” he called out as Caroline passed by.

“Everything all right?” Hunter asked when she returned to the restaurant.

“Everything's fine.” Caroline noticed that there were now two empty seats at the table. “Where's my brother?”

“He gave in to peer pressure soon after you left and went to see if he could persuade Becky to come back,” Peggy said.

Good luck with that,
Caroline thought, as a trio of handsome young musicians approached their table. “What's this?” she asked, as two of the men knelt at her feet and raised their guitars in the air.

“Happy anniversary,” Hunter said.

“Isn't this just the most romantic thing ever!” Rain exclaimed.

“You're not bored with me, are you?” Caroline whispered to Hunter as the musicians began their soft serenade.

“Bored with you? Where on earth would you get that idea?”

Caroline shook all remaining thoughts of her mother out of her head. She caressed her husband's cheek. “I love you,” she said.

“Ah,” said Rain, “so sweet.”

Half an hour later, the singers had finished their songs, and dessert—flaming crêpes suzette—had been ordered. “I should go check on the kids before it arrives,” Hunter said.

Caroline smiled, grateful she hadn't had to remind him.

“And I need a sweater,” Rain said, resting a manicured hand on her impressive cleavage. “The girls are getting chilly.”