“You keep saying that!” His voice was harsh with frustration. “Dammit, Deb’rah, what if we don’t?” He turned and the anger drained from his face, leaving it bleak and despairing. “What if we don’t?” he said again.
Before I could answer, the cousin returned to say that Mrs. Shay was ready to see us.
“For some reason, she seems to be doing much better today,” Eleanor said as she led the way upstairs. “She’s still heartsick about Jonna, of course, but she’s decided that Cal’s going to be all right in the end. I think it’s a combination of prayer and the power of positive thinking.”
Mrs. Shay’s corner bedroom was quite spacious and nicely proportioned with high ceilings and classic molding, yet despite tall windows on two sides, it felt almost airless. Too much polished wood furniture, too many ruffles, too many knickknacks. I charitably decided that it probably seemed like a cozy retreat to her.
Two delicate wing chairs upholstered in the same blue velvet as a nearby chaise sat in front of the fireplace, where small gas logs burned in the grate. The silver tray with the remains of Mrs. Shay’s toast and tea sat on a low table between the two chairs.
Mrs. Shay herself sat on the chaise under one of the windows, and after I was introduced she gestured for us to take the wing chairs while Eleanor Prentice sat down beside her.
There was very little family likeness between the cousins, but having compared that family picture in Jonna’s bedroom with recent pictures of Jonna herself, I knew that Mrs. Shay had been equally beautiful in her youth. Even now, with wrinkled face and age-blotched hands, she was still pretty and still as slender as a young woman. Her eyes were widely spaced and so blue that they were nearly violet, and they made her seem innocent and somehow vulnerable. I could well understand why her husband had catered to her and had tried to shield her from the sordid details of his financial failures. Nevertheless, there must have been a lot of money left from the wreckage if she could afford to live like this for so many years. No wonder the Mayhews and Jacksons of the town thought Jonna had money to spare.
Dwight confessed that we were yet no closer to finding Cal, but she gave a serene smile and lightly patted his arm.
“Put your trust in the Lord, Dwight. That’s what I’ve done. There’s nothing He can do now for Jonna, but last night I began to feel absolutely certain that Cal will come back to us safely.”
I had expected to find a mother and grandmother shattered by grief, but this woman seemed oddly removed from it. Yes, tears came to her eyes whenever talk turned to Jonna, but no tears for Cal, even though I’d been told that he was her only grandchild.
As I sat there quietly listening, a strange feeling of deja
vu began to take over my senses, and when she mentioned last night, I pinpointed the reason.
“Your perfume is very nice,” I said, leaning forward to make sure I wasn’t mistaken. “Is it gardenia?”
“Why, yes, it is,” she said, struggling to play the polite hostess. “All the women in my family are quite fond of it.”
“Not me,” Eleanor said crisply as if alluding to old family rifts. “And not Mama.”
“Nor Jonna,” Mrs. Shay conceded sadly. “It began with Elizabeth Morrow,” she told me. “You know about her ghost?”
I nodded. “I heard that her gardenia perfume can be smelled whenever she walks.”
“I’ve often wondered who the maker was that it could last for over a hundred years,” Eleanor said.
Mrs. Shay gave a mournful smile. “Eleanor doesn’t believe in ghosts, so Elizabeth doesn’t believe in her. She’s never let Eleanor smell her perfume.”
I thought at first she was joking, but her regretful tone was clearly meant as condolence for her cousin’s exclusion from an inner circle. It reminded me of the pitying look my Aunt Zell gave a newcomer to Dobbs who was so clueless as to openly desire to join the town’s oldest book club, a club limited to the female descendants of the original 1898 founders.
Talk turned to funeral arrangements now that Jonna’s body had been released for burial. The day and time were yet to be set, but probably Tuesday or Wednesday.
“Surely Cal will be back with us then,” Mrs. Shay said hopefully.
“When does her sister arrive?” Dwight asked. “She
“Of course she will come,” Mrs. Shay said sharply.
“Pam was devoted to Jonna. To Cal, too. It was such a shock. To her, to me.”
“To all of us,” said Dwight. “And I hate to have to bring this up again, Mrs. Shay, but that message you left on her answering machine, when you asked if she was still mad at you. Was it because she had asked you for money and you told her no?”
Tears filled those dark blue eyes. “Oh, Dwight, how can you be so cruel?”
Her glanced bounced off me and then away, and I realized that she was embarrassed that he’d asked something so personal in front of me.
I immediately stood. “Y’all need to talk privately. I’ll wait downstairs.”
Eleanor started to rise herself, but Mrs. Shay begged her to stay.
“It’s okay,” I said. “I know the way. Why don’t I just take this tray back to the kitchen and fix myself another cup of tea? It was good meeting you, Mrs. Shay. I’m just sorry it had to be under these conditions.”
I knew I was babbling, so I shut up and grabbed the tray. Dwight opened the door for me and I made my escape.
It was almost a half hour before Dwight and Eleanor came back downstairs.
As they entered the kitchen, I heard her say, “I don’t know the address, but let me find a piece of paper. I can give you directions and draw you a rough map.”
