She’d pulled her thick yank of hair back and fastened it into a ponytail with a bit of ribbon, and a lank of it lay on her shoulder. I watched her breathe and she kept her eyes closed. I’d stormed in, ready to confront her about Greg’s lies, and now I found myself not wanting to have this conversation-just wanting to watch her doze, the way I used to on lazy Sunday afternoons in New England. “Has the Wicked Witch of the South ridden off with her flying monkeys?” Lorna asked. “Hey, there. Eula Mae’s harmless and she’s my friend.” I sat down on the end of the couch, pushing her feet up to make room. Her skin felt annoyingly good. “I get the distinct feeling she doesn’t want to be my friend, despite her oh-so-kind invitation to stay with her.” “What was all that about?” “Your harmless little friend sauntered in like she owned your house, told me in nice-but no uncertain-terms that you really didn’t want me here, and just seemed flabbergasted I wasn’t packed and ready to go. I think she even hinted that your mother might be inclined to go into homicidal spells, without reason, at any given moment.” “Eula Mae’s bark is worse than her bite.” “Well, mine’s not.” “Where is everyone?” I asked. “Your sister has gone grocery shopping. She made some comment about not expecting another mouth to feed.” Lorna sounded a little cross and I couldn’t blame her. “Sorry about that. Just ignore her, she’s basically decent when she isn’t being catty.” Lorna shrugged. “I have far more to worry about than being on Arlene’s shit list. Your mother’s upstairs taking a nap; I checked on her a few minutes ago. I did meet your nephew Mark, by the way. He stopped by for lunch and he’s off swimming with some friends.” She opened one gray eye and watched me past her raised knee. Probing my ribs with her wriggling toes, she said: “You don’t want me to go, do you, Jordan?” I took a long breath. “That depends on how you answer my questions.” That got both those gray eyes open. “What?” “Did you know that Greg was running a land scam? That he was planning on reselling the land he wanted to buy for condominiums to a chemical dump site?” I watched her face as I spoke, for any betraying flicker. Her mouth worked, her jaw closing and opening on empty air. “What do you mean?” I told her again. She pulled herself into a sitting position. “How do you know this?” It wasn’t an answer to my question, but I told her about finding the files on Greg’s laptop. “Jordan, I swear to you-I swear on our friendship- that I didn’t know anything about this.” We exchanged stares, then she lowered her eyes. “I feel like an idiot, and you don’t believe me,” she said. “How could you not have known, Lorna?”
She shook her head, her eyes staring off into her memories. “I didn’t know.” “I felt that you weren’t being entirely up-front this morning with Billy Ray and Junebug when they were asking about Greg. You’d better tell me everything you know.” “I did tell you,” she said, her eyes still watching something in her mind and not me. Absently she picked at the bandage on her finger. “No, Lorna. I know you well enough, and I don’t think you did. Now, what exactly did you do for Greg?” “I handled-I did-research for him. On properties around the country that met certain criteria that he had. I’d-identify the properties and then he’d see about acquiring land there, and investors to build on the land. I didn’t deal with any investors-I never met them.” I felt a sudden anger. “So you just happened to identify Mirabeau as the town to fit Greg’s needs. How convenient.” “I didn’t do it just to see you again, despite what your enormous ego might say,” she retorted, then looked contrite. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be a bitch. I’m just shocked.” She swallowed and went on: “I set up these databases for him of towns all over the country. Then I’d run queries on the database, finding out which ones had the attributes he looked for-river site, slow economy, proximity to a major metropolitan area. Lots of towns qualified, and he’d go check them out. He just-picked Mirabeau.” “And you didn’t help him make that choice?”
“You know, if I’d still wanted you, I would never have let you leave Boston. I didn’t have to get a job with Greg to try and get you back.”
Her voice grew sharp. “You’re just so full of yourself, Jordan.” “I can afford to be a little arrogant,” I snapped back, letting the pain talk before my brain edited. “I’m not the one who looks like a land-scam artist. What he was doing was horrible, Lorna, and you were helping him.” “I didn’t know! Honestly!” “I want to believe you.
Desperately. I don’t think you’re a liar, but right now-” “I’m not a liar!” “Then what were you hiding when you were talking to Billy Ray?
Maybe you knew about the land resale all along? What else was going on? Maybe you and Greg were lovers?” “Fine, I’ll tell you.” Her voice took on a strained, sad tone. She coughed once, as though the words were slabs in her throat. “Greg and I were lovers. For a short while after you left. But I cooled it down, because I knew it was a mistake to get involved with my boss. It was the stupidest thing I’d ever done, but you broke my heart when you left and I was entitled to make stupid mistakes. Satisfied?” She bolted off the couch, in tears, and stormed out of the room. “Hello!” Sister trilled as she came into the kitchen, laden with groceries. I quickly offered to help and she looked at my bad arm with a raised eyebrow. “Don’t bother, Jordy.
Where’s Lorna?” “She’s resting upstairs. She’s not feeling well.” I didn’t feel too hot myself. “Oh, dear.” Sister’s voice just dripped concern. “I think she needs a little company to brighten her day.
That’s why I invited Candace over for dinner.” I whirled to face her.
Sister smiled like an angel just getting her wings. I spent the rest of the afternoon lying on my bed, hearing Lorna’s vague movements in the next room, thinking about all the hell that’d broken loose. Greg might not have done anything outright illegal-that would be for a court to decide-but he was obviously an unsavory character. He didn’t deserve what had happened to him, but he’d obviously chosen a bad path. (Even now, thinking about his savaged throat made my bile rise.) I closed my eyes and images danced behind my lids. Wire taken from the fence that bisected the Louder-milks’ property from Bob Don’s ending up in Greg’s neck. Gretchen in Greg’s company. That mysterious phone number on the pad in Greg’s room. Greg being Lorna’s ex- or maybe-not-ex-lover. Greg’s long-standing animosity toward Nina. Tiny’s fury at the thought that Nina could be accused. The erased diskettes.
Greg’s neatly arranged files that indicated he was out to defraud the people of Mirabeau with this condo development. The letters he’d already drafted to send to the city council, even before his deals were done. His many meetings with people in the town: Miss Twyla, the Goertzes, Parker and Dee Loudermilk, Freddy Jacksill, Uncle Bid. He hadn’t met with me and I felt pert near left out. And who was the J. he met with at the end of each day? It hadn’t been me. I wondered, idly, if it was Jenny Loudermilk-she’d come in right behind Greg at the library meeting. Or another abbreviation for Freddy Jacksill. They were the only people connected to the case that I could think of. Of course, it could be someone else entirely. And to add to all this, the bombings. Tomorrow, I decided, I’d have to talk with Mr. Freddy Jacksill and the Loudermilks. I took some more Tylenol, wondering if you could get addicted to the stuff, and rewarded all my hard thinking with a predinner nap. I could have killed my nephew Mark. He’d ended up getting invited to stay at a friend’s for hamburgers for dinner, leaving me alone with three women, all of whom had their eyes on me for different reasons. It was really more than any one man should be expected to bear. Sister was the congenial hostess, being as sugary to me and Lorna as two-day-old sweet-potato pie. She’d insisted on doing all the cooking, while leaving Candace, Lorna, and me out in the living room with a life-preserver- shaped tray of cheese, fruit, and chips. (I felt like the dip.) She brought in our beers and patted Lorna on the shoulder. “Lorna, I know you’re probably not feeling like partying very much, but trust me-a relaxing evening with friends will make you feel better. Try and put all this dreadfulness behind you for just a few hours.” Good thing Lorna wasn’t diabetic-Sister’s cajoling tone would have put anyone into a sugar coma. Lorna wasn’t fooled for an instant. “That’s awfully sweet of you, Arlene. And inviting Candace, too, so I can make a new friend here in Mirabeau, well, really, you shouldn’t have.” I managed to choke down a chip. I could see the evening unfolding like a bad horror movie. Candace and Sister (or at least, Sister) had connived not to leave me alone with Lorna, not knowing that right now I was a bit tiffed at Lorna. Sister wasn’t about to have her baby brother get into a mixed marriage (and marrying a Yankee would be considered just that in Mirabeau-we didn’t trust genes that hadn’t been in nearby pools for several generations) and she was kind of stuck on the idea of me and Candace staying on a steady course. Candace had either gotten dragged into this or was a co-conspirator, but she was the person I was happiest to see. And Lorna, God help me. Lorna saw right through Sister’s charade and had determined to be as affable (at least outwardly) as Sister was being.
She wouldn’t look at me, given her latest confession, but when she’d come down to dinner she’d given me a sideways hug and patted my shoulder. I admit I had no clue as to where I stood with her, or whether I believed she didn’t know about Greg’s fraud. I shouldn’t be mad that she and Greg had been lovers, but I did feel a vague tug in my gut at the thought. Had she felt the same when she’d found out about Candace? At least, I comforted myself, I’d had better taste in companions. Far better, I thought with a smile as I glanced over at Candace. She was wearing an outfit of hers I’d always liked, a simple blue-and-white-stripe tanktop dress. I glanced over at Lorna. She’d changed into a Boston Marathon T-shirt, deliciously snug over her chest, and long navy walking shorts. Both these women were beautiful, in different ways. Any man should have delighted in their company, but the tension hung in the air like a hanged man’s ghost. They’d spend the whole evening fighting over me. A slight grin touched my mouth;
