CHAPTER 17
That Thursday afternoon, the old lady was pleased as punch that there was going to be a wedding in the house tomorrow. She talked about weddings she had known and her nurse, Miss Adams, sat by, making dull agieeable, nmse-like remarks whenever the old lady lost the thread of her recollections, ^an seemed to be listening to them pl^ECidly' while she, slowly, with the daintiest care, put tiny stitches in a new hem on Dorothy's white silk dress.
Dorothy, following a busy Blanche around the house, helping where she could, thought Nan looked like a httle girl, curled up in tlie chair, hfer dark hair han-ging around her cheeks, the wide silk skirt spread over her lap. A little girl in a dream. Dorothy had not argued with the dieam today.
The Bartee men had not been about since the winery tour. A house preparing for a sudden wedding, Blanche said, was no place for a man. Blanche, in some different way, was in charge of the house.
Blanche had made a very short list. '. . . just one or two couples, very close friends.' She had said to Nan, 'And your Mr. Sims, of course.'
But Johnny was not to be found. Dorothy had called the motel three times dming the afternoon. No answer. Wherever Johnny was, he did not know yet that tlie wedding was being arranged. Dorothy worried.
Nan sewed peacefully. Nan pressed the new hem, tried the dress on, with Blanche present. Then Nan said she would wash her hair, would pack, would nap. Dick was coming for her very late in the afternoon, when they would go for their Ucense.
By four o'clock, the clergyman was promised, the guests bidden, food planned, marketing accomplished, the big parlor pohshed. Blanche sent the old lady out of the parlor. Blanche was mistress of the house today; the old lady went meekly. The old lady had retreated to a position of being the ancient pet, there—but not in charge.
'We'll do more flowers in the morning,' Blanche said to Dorothy. 'I'd better order the corsages. What are you wearing?'
'A pink dress,' said Dorothy. 'Nearest I have to looking hke a bridesmaid.'
'Then I'll wear pink, too. That might look nice. Let's see how well we match.'
Dorothy went softly into the back bedroom. Nan, on the bed, slept, or played possmn. Her hair in pins. Face innocent and fair. Dreaming. No use to try to wake her. Dorothy took her pink dress into Blanche's bedroom.
'What a huge room!'
'Isn't it glorious? This used to be the older Bartee's, 'til we had to move mother downstairs. This dress might do.'
Her pink matched Dorothy's well enough. 'So that's that,' sighed Blanche.
'You must be tired.'
'Sit down, shall we? I'll have a cigarette. No, I'm not tired. I think the house will look well.'
'Will Nan and Dick hve in the house?' Dorothy asked.
'Oh, I don't know,' said Blanche, 'whether they will at an/'
'You'd rather they didn't?'
Blanche lifted her chin. 'This place is Bart's. I'd rather Bart—we—didn't give up any part of it.' Blanche was not meek today.
'I can understand that,' Dorothy said.
'You're not awfully pleased about this wedding, are you?' asked Blanche. (They were two females with their hair down.)
'No, I just wish they had waited.'
'But you do know Dick never killed anybody?' Blanche sighed. 'I'm so glad all that is out in the open.'
'Were you fond of Dick? Ever?' Dorothy asked.
'Fond?' frowned Blanche. 'I was fifteen years old.'
Dorothy said sagely, 'I guess there is no such word as 'fond' when you're fifteen years old. You can be awfully flattered if a famous wolf pays any attention.'
'I think that's exactly so.' They smiled at each other. 'I just love Bart,' Blanche said hke a child. 'I think I was afraid of Dick, really.'
'You're not afraid of him now?'
Blanche didn't answer. Dorothy was sitting on the edge of a big four-poster. She put her cheek against the tall mahogany post. 'But McCauley is innocent, so Johnny says.'
'Surely he doesn't say so, now?' Blanche showed surprise.
'The man must be obsessed then,' Dorothy said, sadly.
'Obsessed?'
'McCauley himself, I mean. You know, Johnny talked to him.'
'Oh, did he? In the prison?'
'Yes.'
'It's sad,' Blanche said.
Dorothy felt nervous and restless suddenly. 'The 'McCauley's lived here? Where did they stay?' she
