“No. And even if I were, even if I were interested in Dix Mallory that way, which I'm not, Katy's been gone only three weeks. Three weeks, Eileen!”
“The living go on living. You're not attracted to Dix?”
“Not the way you mean, no.”
“Well, he's always been attracted to you. The way he looks at you sometimes … I'd say he's very interested. He never made a pass at you?”
“Dix? Don't be silly.”
“Well, why not? He's a man, and men are horny beasts, thank God.”
“He worshipped Katy. He wouldn't have cheated on her.”
“It's too bad Katy didn't feel the same way.”
“Oh God,” Cecca said.
“I know, I know, she was like a sister to me, too. But I swear she had a lover.”
“You don't
“Well, you don't always have to have proof positive. She was getting it from somebody besides Dix, all right.”
“I don't see how you can be so catty about her.”
“I'm not being catty. I'm the brutally frank type, honey, you ought to know that by now. I say what I think.”
“But after the horrible way she died …”
“Sure, it was horrible. But quick in an accident is a lot better than slow with cancer, no matter how awful the accident.”
“Even at forty? I suppose so.”
“You bet it is. Besides,” Eileen said philosophically, “accidents happen. Most of the time we're lucky enough to survive them, like when the ceiling panel collapsed at the hospital and almost squashed me. Or that time up in Oregon—all three of us could have been highway statistics that night. Poor Katy's luck just ran out.”
“Can we please change the subject? My lunch is starting to curdle.”
“When you've been a nurse as long as I have,” Eileen said, “nothing bothers your digestion. Or your appetite. You sure you don't want some of this cake? There's only one thing I can think of that tastes better than Chocolate Decadence, and Ted's not here.”
Cecca sighed and watched her vacuum up the cake. And thought about Dix. Attracted to her? Maybe, in the same platonic way she was attracted to him. Nothing serious, just an easy, good-humored friendship. Nothing sexual. She liked the way he looked, and his intellect, and his gentleness, and his smile—but that was all. Eileen was crazy if she thought there could be a romance between them. Still, she had to admit that he appealed to her more than Jerry or Owen, and she'd gone to bed with Owen. There was no harm in inviting him to dinner, seeing him socially. Not dates, exactly, just two friends getting together. Not even Katy could have found fault with that.
Katy, she thought. My best friend Katy. Dead three weeks, burned to death at the bottom of a ravine, and here I sit, planning casual get-togethers with her husband. I'm as bad as Eileen. Worse, because I'm not as honest.
God, what predators we humans are.
When they stepped out of the Mill's air-conditioned coolness, heat closed around them like sticky wool. Splinters of sun-glare pricked at Cecca's eyes; she put on her dark glasses. The light change bothered Eileen even more, made her grumble as she donned her own shades.
“Why did we have to have a heat wave
“Not in the water, it won't. What time are you leaving tomorrow?”
“Ted says we'll be on the road by seven, but if we're off by eight, I'll be happy.”
“Coming back Monday or Tuesday?”
“Labor Day, dammit, fighting traffic all the way. I've got to be at the hospital at eight A.M. on Tuesday. Still —seven glorious days of R and R.”
“I envy you. I'd settle for a two-day vacation right now.”
“Honey, are you sure you can't get away for that long? There's plenty of room at the cabin; the boys can double up.”
“I'd love to, I really would, but I've got showings scheduled for next week and there's a good chance the couple from Walnut Creek will decide to make an offer on the Morrison property. I really need at least one commission soon. Otherwise I don't buy any new fall clothes or you any more lunches.”
“Well, if things happen fast and you have the time, just come ahead. No need to call first.”
“I will.”
“Give my love to Dix when you see him,” Eileen said, and winked, and went off toward the public parking lot behind the Mill, her ample hips grinding inside those hideous paisley stretch pants she insisted on wearing.
Cecca drove to Better Lands to check her voice mail. The Agbergs, the Walnut Creek couple, were still debating, evidently—not that she'd expected otherwise. They were a methodical pair; it might take a week or two before they made up their minds. There were no other messages and not much going on at the office. Tom Birnam, boss and friend, told her there'd been only half a dozen calls and one showing all day. Saturdays were usually a busy time and she'd been a little sorry to have this one off. End-of-summer doldrums … but she knew that wasn't it. This damn recession was hurting everybody. She'd had just two sales in the past fifteen months, and it was the sheerest luck that one of those had been on the Ridge. One of the other agents hadn't had a sale of any kind in ten months.
And what made the pill even more bitter was the fact that Los Alegres had once been and should still be a real estate agent's paradise. Home prices had climbed radically in the greater Bay Area in recent years, but most houses here were still affordable and a good value for the money. Small-town America was dying, thanks to global shrinkage, overpopulation, technology, a dozen other factors. You couldn't find many towns in California these days, particularly close to a major urban center like San Francisco, that had a hundred-and-fifty-year history, an untricked-up, old-fashioned ambiance, community pride, good schools, a jobless rate of four percent (half the state average), no serious drug or gang problems, at least not yet, and therefore a relatively crime-free environment,
She stopped at Safeway for a few things, so it was almost three when she turned onto Shady Court. She'd always loved this one-block cul-de-sac; it was the prettiest little street on the west side. Tall elms lined both sides, their branches interlocked overhead to form a tunnel of summer shade. Well-maintained old houses of mixed architectural styles: Spanish, Victorian, neo-colonial, 1920s frame. Shady Court had such traditional charm that Hollywood location scouts, like bugs with highly sensitized antennae, had scoped it out and offered enough money to make the residents give in and allow their homes to be used as backdrops for (at last count) three TV commercials and scenes in two films. Cecca had voted against the intrusion of cameras and outsiders the last time, but as the newest resident, she was outvoted. In fact, she'd been the only dissenter.
She had adored Shady Court as far back as she could remember. Her parents' Christmas-tree farm had been a nice enough place to grow up, but it was too far out in the country to suit her; she preferred town and its attractions. When she was at Los Alegres High, eight blocks to the north, she had driven by the Court often on her way to and from school and had told her friends, “I'm going to live there someday.” They'd laughed at her. Well, it had taken her twenty years and an ugly divorce, but here she was. Thank you, Chet, she thought wryly and not for the first time. Walking out on Amy and me was a lousy thing to do, but at least you were decent about the settlement. Half the joint savings, Chet agreeing to give her seventy-five percent of the proceeds on the sale of their Cherry Street house in exchange for title to the Mendocino beach cottage, this place coming on the market at just the right time and at just the right price … sometimes in the midst of chaos there is an island of good.
Amy's little Honda, that her granddad had bought her over Cecca's protests last Christmas, was neither parked out front nor in the driveway. Off somewhere with her friends; she finished work at Hallam's Bookshop at one on Saturdays. Cecca felt a small disappointment. Eileen had psyched her up and she thought she knew now
