I glanced at her with a sheepish look. “I guess you could say that.”
She kept her voice low as we gathered onlookers. “Don’t let her get to you. It’s a holiday. Relax and have some fun.”
I nodded and wiped my eyes. “I’ll try.”
Muscles popped from her neck. “And if that witch so much as looks at you the rest of the day-well, you’ll think you’re watching tryouts for
To pass the time before the big meal, we broke out a trivia game and set it up in the parlor. Dagger dazzled us with his sports aptitude, Gwen with her grasp of science, and Maize with her capacity for little-known Bible facts.
Koby read a psychology question that had us stumped.
“Where’s the professor?” he asked. “He’d know the name of the surgeon who performed the first lobotomy.” Just then Simon joined us, slicking back his dark hair with one hand. “Can you imagine letting some guy take out part of your brain?” He made a casual flop onto the settee.
I wondered where he’d been. I hadn’t even noticed he’d left the room.
With the crowd stumped, Koby put the card back in its box and went on to the next question.
A few minutes later, Ms. Rigg invited us to be seated for dinner. There was no sign of Jane, though a place had been set for her. I sat next to Denton, wondering what he’d done with the derelict diva. I watched his hands reach for his cloth napkin. No signs of gunpowder residue on the skin. A quick glance under the table revealed clean shoes. No grave digging before supper. Jane had obviously escaped murder.
“Shall we pray?” Denton bowed his head and the rest of us followed suit.
At his “amen,” the chatting and laughter resumed. Steaming veggies and sliced turkey made the rounds. Afterward, dessert found an eager lineup at the buffet. I chose a slice of blueberry pie. Portia went with pumpkin. Maize and Gwen turned their sundaes into works of art topped with a cherry. The guys gravitated toward the apple pie. I was already planning a covert mission to the kitchen for leftovers later that night.
I watched the happy group. Even with voices all around me, I could only think about Jane’s untimely revelation of the drug trials in Michigan and what that meant for me… and Brad.
Mindlessly, I chopped at my blueberry pie. The same old questions came to mind. Was I really safe in Del Gloria anymore? Were those around me safe? Who knew what someone like Jane would do with information on my background. She hardly seemed like the type to keep it to herself. In fact, the way she flaunted her secret, with Portia standing right there, I figured most of LA, Beverly Hills, and Hollywood already knew Patricia Louise Amble was hiding out somewhere on the coast. It wasn’t that the information would mean anything to most people, but in the right hands it could mean cash, drugs, or death. I wondered which payment plan Jane had chosen.
“Hey. You going to eat that pie or turn it to mush?” Portia nudged me out of my daze.
I put the fork to my lips, shocked by the sweetly sour blueberries laced with flaky chunks of crust.
Portia angled next to me at the table. “You ready to talk about it?”
I shook my head, then went ahead and told her anyway. “You know, that landlord thing. I’m having trouble remembering all the details. When Jane mocked me like that, it made me wonder what really happened. Maybe something bad, something worse than I thought, and I forgot about it.” I shrugged. “I don’t know. I just can’t seem to remember.”
“Like I said before, ‘The truth shall set you free.’ Why don’t you Google it? Or ask Koby for help? He’s an ex- hacker. He can find anything. What’s the worst that can happen?”
“No.” I clenched my jaw. “No. I’m just going to wait for my phone call. And when I get back home, I’ll know what’s going on. It’ll be fine. Nothing bad happened.”
The clanking of dishes, pleasant voices, and laughter swirled around us.
Portia rested her hand on mine. “I waited for that phone call once. You know what? It never came.”
I tried to pull away, but she gripped my fingers in hers.
“It was a good thing too, Alisha. Look at my life now. I’ve got an education, good friends, good food, and a roof over my head. And I don’t have to sleep with men to get it. If a special man comes along someday, great. If not, I’m happy. My life wouldn’t be this awesome if I’d gotten that phone call. The life at the other end of that phone line wasn’t anywhere as good as the life at this end.”
“That’s not going to happen to me.” My voice rose in defense. “The person at the other end of my phone line loves me. He wants me home with him. And that’s where I want to be.”
At the look on Portia’s face, I explained. “Don’t get me wrong. I love you guys. This has been a really good experience for me. I’m like a whole new person since I came to Del Gloria. But there’s someone waiting for me… that special someone. We were meant to be together. And nothing can stop us.” My words started to sound desperate and I petered off.
Portia stared at me, jaw set. “You better find out what’s going on back there. It doesn’t sound to me like you’re going to get that phone call. Why set yourself up for devastation? Find out what happened, face it, deal with it, and move on. Life flows in one direction, honey. Once you leave a place, there ain’t no going back.” Her face hardened into that of the Portia I’d first met.
“I’m sorry you never got your phone call, Portia.”
I stood, ready to excuse myself from the gathering.
A scream from the kitchen.
“Professor! Professor, come quick.” Ms. Rigg appeared at the dining room arch. Wet hair from a bun gone asunder clung to her cheeks. Water dripped from her dress, puddling on the floor. “It’s Jane, sir. I think she’s dead!”
17
Denton sighed and pushed back his chair, as if refusing to get drawn into Ms. Rigg’s drama. He crossed the room, moving with the speed of a man who suspected he was already too late. We practically ran him over as we herded behind him on the way to the portico, morbidly curious, if not mournful of Jane’s demise.
Ms. Rigg pointed to the end of the driveway. “Look. She’s down there! That’s her purse-there on the edge of the cliff. I went to get it and I saw my Jane, dead on the sand below.” She gave a wail of horror.
Portia, Simon, Dagger, and I stepped into the weather, following Denton down the concrete slope. Behind us from the comfort of the covered porch came offers of help if we should need it.
I shielded my face from the relentless rain as we strode toward the red purse abandoned beneath the guardrail across the road.
I waited on the curb with the weeping Ms. Rigg, watching as Denton stepped over the metal and peered with caution over the rain-soaked rocks to the ground below.
A shake of his head. “Simon. Call 9-1-1.”
Simon nodded and hurried up the drive.
“Oh, Professor! Is she dead? Is she really dead?”
Ms. Rigg’s hysterical sobs broke through my coldhearted observation. I put an arm around her. “Come on, let’s get back indoors.”
“Oh, my Jane! My Jane!”
I shushed her with soothing tones as we made the climb to Cliffhouse. Portia stayed below with Denton and Dagger. Gwen, Maize, and Koby consoled us as we stepped into the house.
“Come on, let’s get you to the parlor,” I said and helped Ms. Rigg get situated on the settee. “Gwen, please grab a blanket from the linen closet upstairs. Maize, put on hot water for tea, if you would. And Koby,” I patted the spot next to Ms. Rigg, “would you sit with her while I try to find out what’s happened?”
Koby took a seat and Ms. Rigg leaned on his shoulder as if she were accustomed to leaning on others. I knew better.
“Jane. My Jane,” she murmured.
I stood, ready for my mission.
“I didn’t know Jane except for today,” Koby said softly to Ms. Rigg, “but I really liked her smile.”
