didn’t you?” Ada glanced at Des, a deep, moist sadness in her hooded eyes. “She was just like her father. Luther had it, too.”
“Had what, Ada?”
“Heart disease. He died young himself, sixty-three years old. Not a day goes by that I don’t miss him.”
“She had a valve blockage,” Les spoke up. “Her heartbeat was irregular as a result. Cardiac arrhythmia, they call it. She was on medication, and bypass surgery had been strongly recommended, but she wouldn’t hear of it. Apparently her father…”
“Luther died on an operating table in London,” Ada said. “It was supposed to be a routine heart procedure. It wasn’t routine. Not unless you consider death routine. Norma was convinced the same thing would happen to her if she went in, so she refused to even…” Ada’s voice broke, a jagged sob coming from her. “That’s my baby girl lying there. A mother isn’t supposed to outlive her children. I’ve outlived them both. First Herbert, now Norma. There is no one left. They’re gone. All gone.” Ada lingered for a moment longer, then shook herself. “I’ll join the others downstairs, if you don’t mind.”
“That’s fine, Ada.”
“Des, we need to talk some more, you and I,” she said with sudden urgency. “It’s vitally important. Later this morning, okay?”
“Sure, if you’d like.”
Ada touched her fingers to her own lips, then to Norma’s. “Goodbye, my dear. I shall always love you.”
“She loved you, too, Ada,” Les said softly, as the old lady glided from the room. Then he slumped heavily into the armchair by the bed, his eyes red and pouchy. He was unshaven, his wavy silver hair disheveled. He had dressed hastily in a rumpled Astrid’s Castle fleece top and baggy flannel-lined jeans. “She carried too much weight around. Her cardiologist in New Haven, Mark Lavin, kept after her to lose more. She did try, but she just had so much trouble keeping it off.”
“Les, I’ll need a list of the medications she was on.”
“Whatever you say. I used to pick them up for her at the pharmacy, so I ought to know. She took the digoxin for her heart. She also had an underactive thyroid. She took Synthroid for that.”
Des glanced at Norma’s nightstand. She saw a water glass, half empty, reading glasses, a book. No pills. “And they’d be where?”
“The bathroom. She was also on a couple of different, you know, female drugs-in spite of the negative press they’ve been getting.”
“You mean hormone replacement therapy?”
He nodded. “Prometrium and one other one. Can’t remember the name. She swore they made her feel more energetic. She took too much upon herself for a woman in her condition. Long, hard days. Loads of stress. I begged her and begged her to slow down, but she wouldn’t. I-I knew there was a chance that this might happen someday. I just… I wasn’t ready.”
“We never are, Les. Was she feeling poorly yesterday? Did she complain at all?”
“She absolutely never complained. But I did think she looked tired at dinner.”
“I remember you mentioning it.”
“No question she was under an added strain with this big tribute coming up-Ada being here, not to mention Aaron. I guess it was just too much for her.”
“Did she get up at all last night?”
“I wouldn’t know. I sleep like a log. You can set off dynamite next to me and I won’t wake up. That’s the worst of it,” he said, ducking his head.
“What is, Les?”
“I was lying right here next to her, snoring away like a big dumb clod, while Norma was fighting for her very life. I wasn’t here for her, Des. In her last moments on this earth, she was all alone. I just feel so…”
“Responsible? You’re not. Don’t go there, Les. I’m sure she didn’t suffer.” Besides which, Des reflected, what could he have done? No ambulance could have made it up there. Not even a Life Star helicopter could have come to the rescue. Not in this kind of wind. And even if they had, chances were the lady would have already been gone. “Don’t beat up on yourself. Try to remember the good times.”
“We were happy together,” he said mournfully. “We only had a few short years, six this coming May. But we were so happy.”
Des went over to the window and looked out at the morning sunlight. The world had never looked quite this way before. The sky had never been so blue, the snow so white. The clean hard coating of ice that covered everything positively shimmered. Many, many of the castle’s trees, especially the slender, pliable birches, were so bent over from the weight of the ice that their tops had actually frozen to the ground. When they thawed-assuming it ever got that warm again-they would very likely be severely damaged. For now, the sight was simply a breathtaking one. So was the panoramic mountaintop view. The Connecticut River was entirely frozen over. Downriver, where 1-95 crossed over on the Baldwin Bridge, not a single car could be seen. The highway was deserted. Beyond that, she could see steam rising off the salt water of Long Island Sound.
“What do we do now, Des?” Les wondered. “I can’t imagine Fulton’s Funeral Home will be able to make it up here today, can you?”
She turned and faced him and said, “Actually, you’re getting a little bit ahead of yourself, Les. I have to phone this in first.”
“You do?” His eyes widened in surprise. “What for?”
“It’s a state law. Norma didn’t die in the presence of a physician. She was unattended. That makes hers what they call an untimely death. It’s just a formality, but I have to report it to my commanding officer. Also the medical examiner.”
“The medical examiner?” Now Les looked truly aghast. “They’re not going to cut her open, are they?”
“I highly doubt that. Not if Dr. Lavin confirms that her death wasn’t unexpected. But that’s entirely up to the medical examiner. His people will have to come up here and take a look at her. Road conditions being what they are, Norma may have to stay put for a while. Why don’t you move some of your things into another room? I need to close this one up.”
“Whatever you say,” Les said woodenly, getting up slowly out of his chair. “But I’m going to join the others down in the taproom right now, if you don’t mind. I can’t stay in here with her any longer.”
“That’s fine, Les. By the way, did you tidy Norma up before the rest of us came in?”
“I did. I wanted her to look nice. Is that okay? I didn’t mean to do anything wrong.”
“Not at all. I was just curious. Go ahead and go downstairs with the others.”
Once he’d left, Des got busy on her cell phone. As she’d suspected, Norma wasn’t going anywhere for the next twenty-four to thirty-six hours. Connecticut was officially locked down, its highways and roads closed to all but emergency vehicles. Most residents were still without power. Phone service was spotty. All of this plus the bright blue morning sky was merely a cruel tease-the National Weather Service was still predicting that same six to ten inches of snow later in the morning.
First Selectman Bob Paffin told her that the Center School emergency shelter was up and running, complete with food, cots, blankets and kerosene heaters. Three hundred very cold people were already making use of the facility. Members of Dorset’s volunteer fire department and ambulance corps were making sure that anyone else who needed to get there could do so. Des gave him the names of Mitch’s three elderly charges. Bob assured her they’d be seen to. Des was pleased that folks in Dorset were so on top of things. And damned frustrated that she couldn’t be with them, pitching in.
She tried calling Bella again. This time she got a ring instead of a busy signal. Also a thick, drowsy “Wha…?” from the other end of the crackly line.
“Girl, I don’t mean to be a Jewish mother,” Des said, greatly relieved to hear her friend’s sleepy voice, “but you don’t call, you don’t write, nothing.”
“Everything is fine, tattela,” Bella assured her, yawning. “The house is fine, I’m fine. Although I must tell you that I am not alone in this bed.”
“Shut up! Who’s…?”
“All five cats are under these covers with me.”
“Oh, I see,” Des said, smiling.
“I find this very intimate, also lumpy. And, feh, I have someone’s tail in my face. Spinderella, move over, will
